Music's Like a Snuggie for Your Soul


Monday, November 5, 2012

Autumn Romp

Photo credit: Julesoflondon
I intended to dump a bundleful of glum and dreary in the woods today. I was planning to bury it somewhere off trail in a cat hole, but even with the slick of the rain, i couldn't shake it free from my arms. It wasn't a big load, but i held it close to my heart and feared letting the weight of it down might leave me feeling terribly helpless and uncomfortably exposed.

I kept my cluster of worries held to my chest as rain fell down and soaked me and the dogs. I wished i could casually pass it off like the blades of grass foisting rain drops off onto my pant legs as i brushed by them, arcing, aloof, like careless ballerinas, oblivious to the storm, dancing. I couldn't fix these things. No matter how tightly i clutched them in my Amazon arms, or how often i worried them in my fingers throughout the day, they would never snap into manageable pieces or wear down the slightest bit or soften to the touch.

I know this. Yet, i can't let go of the sorrow. I try to sigh it away into the big, drab sky and bid it go play with the other shades of dark up there (in a busy street of speeding chariots), but it keeps slipping back into me in wisps of grey. 

Life is tough, for some the time on this planet is cut short, families are truncated of tender branches. Some are taken in ways that seem horribly unjust. My would-be-sister-in-common-law-if-Idaho-recognized-common-law's mom is slipping down the steep, merciless slope of ALS. She's staying here so she can go through another battery of doctor's visits this week. Our house isn't wheelchair accessible. I feel terrible. When you're at the stage in the game where every moment is precious, the last thing you want to compromise is someone's dignity. She's a great sport, but i hate that it's a struggle. I hate that the once-fiercly-independant woman is humiliated by her need for assistance. I hate that every time i see her, the rapid decline is apparent. She fights to breathe these days. What a dastardly, piece of shit disease.

Albeit a molehill, comparatively, mom is facing a tough situation too; after 22 years of unhappy marriage, she's finally calling it quits. She just moved out this weekend. While i know in my heart they'll be better off long-term without the often volatile marriage arrangement; it's going to be harder than a fossilized, anal-retentive velociraptor turd in the meantime. I wish i could take her up in a hug and not let go til it's over. I wish i lived closer. I can't stand the idea of my mom living in a one room apartment alone.

I have more ill-sorted (<<great word) worrows and concerns that buzz around and pop out of the darkness like a carnival "fun" house. I know most of them also fall under bullet number one in the Serenity Prayer, but sue me if i'm too chicken shit to admit that i can't change these things. Maybe i can't accept the sheer helplessness yet. 

I plodded down the trail til it opened up and plunked me back out near where we started. I love loop trails. The fall colors were contrasted like flames against the dark sky. The tamarack glowed yellow like blazing torches against a dark forest backdrop. An assortment of deciduous trees added to the fiery array. It struck me that maybe this was nature's way of saying, i know it's cold and dark these days, but here are my leaves in cozy tones to warm your exposed and vulnerable souls. It's gonna be okay one way or another; light and love will always win, eventually.

With that glimmer of hope, i took my dogs and my load and plodded the damp streets home.


  1. My dear brother-in-law died of that horrible illness.
    And yeah, your mom's going to go through some tough times.
    But you can't change any of it. You know that already. You're doing what you're supposed to do, baby.

  2. I hope by listening, I can help carry that shitty, ill-sorted load.

    Your writing shines.

  3. Have i mentioned that i love you both? Well, i do. I really, bloopin do.


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