Smalltime Musings

I wrote this so long ago, and I wish I could remember the changes my sister and I made when I gave it to her to put to music. I wish I had kept the revised version, she helped me turn the worst event in my life into something worth sharing. I love you, Bear

The Awakening:

Staring at the ceiling through my eyelids
imagining a better place than this,
I’m pretending I can’t feel you move inside me,
wishing my body did not exist.

For so long now I’ve been sleeping,
Moving through life while in a dream.
You see, I am awake and I’ve been thinking,
there must be more to life than this

Now that I’m awake my mind is screaming,
How could I have fallen so far?
And now that I’m awake my is weeping,
love bleeds from the opened scars.

Maybe I’d be better off still sleeping,
living in my “dream within a dream.”
Then, my love, you’d be worth keeping;
my ignorance would seal your bliss.

Now that I’m awake my mind is screaming.
How could I have fallen so far?
And now that I’m awake my heart is weeping.
Love bleeding from the ragged scars.

But I am awake now, I’ve been thinking,
that life is easier without you.
I’ve got to quiet down the screaming,
can’t keep being afraid of you.

I’m sorry that you don’t understand me.
my pain always was your joy.
Without you, my heart is healing quickly;
all the old scrs closed anew.

Because, once awake I felt my mind scream,
in horor at falling so far
and once awake I felt my heart cry
emptied of love through vicious scars.

Now that I’m awake I let my soul scream,
ashamed I let me fall that far.
I revel in the pain of my heart’s cries;
squeeze the last of love through all those scars.

And now that I’m awake I’m leaving.
Perhaps then you’ll wake up too.
I won’t be sorry when your heart sighs.
You know you let me down too.

  I pack boxes and fill garbage bags… mostly I fill garbage bags, and I think about what this small 30 block change in address really means to me. With every book that I lovingly pack into every box, with every dish I wrap in the newspapers I have never bothered to read, but thankfully hadn’t cancelled yet, I slowly sever ties to this house.

  It was the first home I owned, and I was so proud when I was young and married and we signed those documents. To me it signified reaching adulthood in a way that even marriage and motherhood had not. We had arrived! 

 When the fights became more numerous, and crying myself to sleep at night became the norm, I clung to my home, to making it warm, inviting, lovely, hopeful. I dressed children for school, took part in home preschool groups, baked bread, mended clothes, patched the tears in a heart that kept being wounded by broken promises and love departing.

  When my other left, the nightly tears intensified, then slowly ebbed, until life had found a new path, until I found my “normal” once again. Children to school, mommy to work, daycare, dinner, homework, bed. Our pattern was gentle, sweet, poor, but happy.

  But, this house; this home was not to be mine forever. Now I have removed the pictures from the walls, the books from the shelves, and the dishes from the cupboards. Thrift has been replaced by poverty, dreams have been replaced by prayers and sleepless nights. Yet, still there is such hopefulness in moving to a new space, one uncluttered by the sad memories of this house, but with room for the so-many beautiful ones to go with us.

  I pray that I can take with me those most important dreams, that a tiny 2-bedroom apartment will somehow make room for the beginning of lasting love, and the endurance of a happy family. I will be making beds and baking bread in a new home soon, one far more humble than those I have known before. We will make the most of it, my little family and I. We are busy, preparing for the future we dream of. One in which our family welcomes additions, overcomes hardship, and thrives beyond anything we have dared to hope for in recent years. It has been quoted so many times, that love conquers all.  Truly, it is life that conquers all.  Until the doorway of death ushers me to the next stage of existence, I know I will still wake on the morrow with work to do, people to love, and a future to dream.

  And even then, it’s just another move; forward, onward, ever changing, never finished. And isn’t that just the story of my life…

In the wide world of marketing, I have found a personal dilemma.  I am, without a doubt, narcissistic enough to want the attention, neurotic enough to need it, and self-conscious enough to hate asking for it.  My dilemma? How does one go about marketing something that has not been proven? Did Billy Mays have these questions about OxyClean? Did Picasso know his inherent worth before he gained his first patron?  So I tweet, but I’ve found it far easier to support others than promote myself.  I facebook, but am drawn to keeping in touch with people, rather than seeking subscribers. In the end, it seems as though I would rather remain unknown than be successful. I contend that this isn’t true. I do want to be a successful as a writer, I love to have others read my words and feel a connection to me and to each other.  So, the question remains, how do I market an unproven talent? Today I will start by offering myself to those who are willing to read, supporting those who deserve to be heard, and maybe, just maybe, by writing, now and forever, no matter what the cost, or the reward. Maudlin Monday, I have arrived.