and i could go crazy on a night like tonight
summer's beginning to give up her fight
and every thought's a possibility...
i could do it. i could put on my clothes, pack my bag, leave him a note and slip into my car and no one would ever miss me. i could roll down all the windows and drive against the cool night air, music playing, alone at last.
i have no reason to leave. j and i are fine, there's no huge crisis on hand. i just can't shake the urge to just drive away. i want to drive to vermont...drive until it gets cold. i've always been of the mind that life is better understood....from over there. perspective, the kind gained while driving into the sunrise, is a good good thing.
but you like the taste of danger
it shines like sugar on your lips
and you like to stand in the line of fire
just to show you can shoot straight from your hip
there must be a thousand things you would die for....
sigh...this is all i know: life has improved just enough that i can almost wrap my head around some understanding of what is going on around me. almost.
i have two jobs. at least, i have had two jobs. one of them just ended, and i don't know when or if i'll be doing it again. BUT. i can officially call myself a freelance writer. this is huge for me. i now have a bonafide reference and i'll be getting copies of my work for a portfolio. i wrote for money. again: this is HUGE. and i liked it. a lot. and they liked my work. a lot. huge.huge.huge. i have been amazed at the rise in confidence and the way i look at myself in the mirror.
we also made a profit our first month in the antique booth, which was really unexpected. after all the fees and stuff, j and i saw about $9.00, but still...profit. and someone bought a furniture piece on layaway, meaning that we've already paid out for september and have about an one hundred dollar surplus already. this is also fabulous news. and i have reconnected with the director of something in the antique mall, an old co-worker from the gay library internship who i love dearly, and is interested in working with us again doing a gay history archive project. possibilities abound.
and then, out of nowhere, more goodness. a real-life femme fairy godmother. this is what she wrote to me:
"Of course you can get back to me and yes, I'll make calls on your behalf. Of course, that means you'll have to trust me with details of your life that you might not otherwise care to share. So think about it. If you feel a need for help, give me a call. In fact, sweetheart, in any instance you find yourself dealing with something that you'd want to call your mom for help with, or other people would be calling their parents, I will happily help you. I didn't have a mom who would/could do anything to help me and I always wished I had a surrogate who just help me figure stuff *out.* I'll do what I can, when I can, if you ask. You only have to ask because I'm not there to just figure out what it is you need. So, please, don't hesitate. Even if you think it's silly. Do you know how difficult it was for me to figure out how to balance my checkbook and learn to pay bills? Let alone deal with insurance companies and trying to figure out how to get health care and all that jazz."
that still leaves me stunned. i haven't written her back, because honestly, with all this work on my mind, i haven't given myself the space or time to really think about it. i know it's a yes, a huge, teary, emphatic yes...but to think about what it means for me....wow. i don't know that i even know anymore when people call their parents. i don't know when i would call my mother. i used to. i used to dial the number just to hear the error message, because at least it connected to something, and wasn't just me shooting thoughts out into the empty air. how badly i have hurt, how many walls i've put up around all this space she left. i don't mean to make this darker than it needs to be...it's just that i stopped thinking in these terms so very long ago.
and now i can again. and it's like someone opened the lid of the jar i've been living in. it makes me miss my mother in such a powerful, guttural way....to think about what i really want most of all: a hug. a long mom-hug from someone who cares about me in that way. someone who has respect for my mother, and isn't trying to be her, someone who isn't exploiting the loss for their gain...just someone who sees that pain and can give it somewhere safe to go. i have dreamed of that for years, both craving it and fearing it. because it *almost* feels like betrayal...but i know enough to know that it isn't betrayal, just the feeling of acknowledging that she isn't coming back, and i don't have to choose to live in pain. that isn't honoring her. my heart doesn't have to be her shrine, and her death doesn't have to kill that part of me.
all i know of life right now is how hard i am trying to crawl closer to the light. everything i have aches with the effort, but bit by bit i'm getting there.
and tonight, it's enough. how very very far i have come is enough.
and maybe that's all that we need
is to meet in the middle of impossibility
we're standing at opposite poles
equal partners in a mystery...