While my only child attending school had remained healthy, the other two kids and j have been fighting a nasty stomach bug this past week. *sigh* It’s been a long week.
Today was a long, looong, day with a bunch of mixed news/feelings. My mother goes in for another surgery for her cancer tomorrow, I saw the neurologist about my scans (some made her happy and some made her very… Confused and cautious), Hubby is FX-ing since this morning, and his beuatiful pup whelmed seven pups herself.
I need some sleep and am just thinking and thinking and thinking. The sound of puppies suckling, however, is adorably soothing .
Not sure if I’m making the cut off or not, but this last writing prompt from ISmithWord’s is : limerick.
There was a deep, wheezing voice floating over the crowd as our eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the door. Poet’s Den was the oddest bar I think I’d ever dragged my man into. The incense, coffees, and teas mixed in the air, giving each table it’s own aromatic aurora. I felt like I”d crawled out of my skin and into my soul with so many kindred spirits about, my poor date just looked like he was suffocating on all thick vernaculars in the air.
He took up residence in my normal haunt, a corner in the back of the room, pretty much out of sight. I was the social butterfly here, an inversion of our roles beyond these walls. It had been so long since I’d spoken with other writers. We read each other’s pieces, listened to the poets on stage, the musicians wove melodies, discussed what we really meant by what we said. It was thrilling… in a calm, sipping warm spices kind of way.
Then a sort of raucous rose up from the back. There he was, obviously enjoying something a bit bolder than my tea in his glass and being the loud, fun loving sailor I’d fallen in love with.
Excusing myself I walked over to him and whispered an appropriate encouragement to get us out the door without too much disruption. While we were walking out a heard a few sneers and distasteful remarks, a classic case of” who do you think you are to be in our clique” kind of nonsense that drove me mad.
I paid the cashier and said, a little loudly and maybe with a wink, “You’ll have to excuse us for the night. My limerick needs its muse.”.
It was cheesy and silly, but what can I say, my sailor’s rubbed off on me.
Word Count: 306
I am unrealistic. I get that. I expect my mate to be loyal. If my mate is not loyal I expect him to come to me and be honest or at least be honest when confronted. This seems to be the cycle the men I choose to be with go through.
“Maybe if I lie really well, it’ll make her happy. Screw tomorrow.”
I have too much going on to add one more thing to my plate like this.
And he’s a guy. It’s not like if you gave him some time to think about things he’d actually think. Think? No!!!! Screw everything with a skirt, more like it. And that’s certainly not gonna help anybody. But… I… I would think. And I would think myself right back to where I’d started because I’d assumed someone else was thinking too.
One of the most thoughtful things my husband has ever said to me was that sex was an extension of conversation. It was such an intrinsic view on it and I loved that, despite the many things my husband is not, he proved thoughtful on this subject. I’ve referenced this quote from him more than once. It was a moment I go back to quite often when we’re having marital issues.
After about a week of not really speaking to each other, we finally had an argument. A throw it all out in the open argument. Frankly, he wasn’t getting laid and didn’t like it whereas I was not being spoken to and didn’t like it. If sex was an extension of conversation, like he had said it was, why would he expect to get laid when there was no conversation taking place?
It was a true argument to form, which we haven’t done for a while. Usually, we discuss and not argue, but usually it doesn’t feel like things get resolved as well as they were after this.
When we were done arguing I loaded the kids up and left him to himself for a few hours.
When we came home I focused on the kids and gave him as much space as you can give someone you live with.
He came the next day after work.
“Remember how you said you’d said sex was an extension of conversation?”
“No,” I responded with one of those if looks cold kill glares, “you said that, to me, shortly after I moved in.”
He had thrown it out there like he was testing me, like he was trying to make sure he had indeed been the one to say it. He didn’t remember telling me something I held so dear.
The conversation progressed. I told him how lonely I’d been feeling, how he kept withdrawing farther and farther into a grumpy, mean, insulting version of himself. We talked about how yes, the house has been a mess because I have been unable to keep up with it. That lead us to the stresses in regards to finances and health we’ve been dealing with. The conversation came to a close on a good note, not an exact plan for resolution but at least an idea of one.
“We still need more time to be together.” He said, hugging me.
“I know.” I nodded.
And things have been better. He makes an effort to say “I love you’s” again, to kiss me when he comes home, to let me know he enjoys being with me and not just… being… with… me.
We’ve lost ourselves amidst all the stresses and we’re just trying to find ourselves and each other again. Our kids have been such an anchor amidst it all. There have been so many days where being a parent was the only thing we seemed to know how to be anymore, and as parents we are a team, and that has been a solidifying factor during all the fractures we’ve been suffering.
It was good to come together and be on the same page again. For us both to realize that we still both wanted to be with the other despite all the seismic emotional activity.
After reading the prompt, I couldn’t help myself…
A little personal history with a twist of fiction…
When the Ride Ends…
We met after a band event at an amusement park when I was sixteen. My best friend and I ran into him and his best friend. We were inseparable; hitting the rides together, eating lunch, even just walking around. We parted ways when the day was over with a “See you next year” thrown over my shoulder and my
friend and I didn’t give it much more thought.
“Miss Smith, Miss Johnson, can I see you both in my office for a second.” Our music director had been one of my older brother’s best friends in college so he was always teasing me. I’d had a crush on him when we first met–older, cooler, cuter than guys my age. Now, he was my teacher and was much more of an annoying reminder that I had a family reputation to uphold.
“I received a letter at the school here.” He began. “Inside was a request to hand these off to you ladies,” he continued handing us each an envelope from out of a larger one. “I had meant to give this to you a while back”.
We looked at the envelopes, my friend’s addressed with her name and mine addressed with “For the Friend whom you know to give it to”. Whoever had tracked us down didn’t even know my name…
“I realize this is a bit presumptuous, but given the letter I received with them, I think it’s safe to assume they’re meant for you two.” He smiled that annoying big brother knows a secret kind of smile and dismissed us.
We looked at each other, grinned, and went to find an empty practice room. We closed the door behind us and tore into the envelopes. They were from the guys at the amusement park. We laughed till we cried.
…… Ten Years Later……
Time has a way of changing things, what you consider to be an adventure among them.
I wasn’t galavanting around, living off of my skills as a musician or writer anymore. I was a single mom working three jobs. My adventures these days consisted greatly of watching my child’s eyes go wide with awe as he learned about animals, bugs, science, everything. The antagonist of this journey was his neglectful father.
I still spoke with the young man I met at the amusement park on occasion, but the discussions were few and far between. I didn’t have much time for friends these days. On one of my rare, true days off we reconnected and he offered to take us out to dinner.
We ate and chatted and he told my son what a smart, wonderful kid he was. The evening was wonderful. So, when we got back to the house and I got my little one in bed, he was a bit baffled when I started crying.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had an evening out I wasn’t working or worried or just trying to make it through. It was nice to feel like a person again. The rest spilled out with the tears, how difficult things had been,how terrible things were with my son’s father even when we had been together.
He held me close, silent, gentle, and strong while I feel apart into the thousands of pieces I was always trying to hold together.
“I’ll take care of this” He whispered into my hair.
I din’t know what he’d meant, what he said didn’t even register until I got the call the next morning.
Seemed my son’s father had been found dead. The police said a lot of things and asked a lot of questions. It seemed like they couldn’t decide if it was gang related or not. There didn’t seem much evidence of violence among the gang members themselves…
The police asked a lot of questions… and when they left… I cried.
It’s been a whirlwind of weirdness since my mom got her cancer diagnosis last week. Seems like she and I both have a multitude of medical appointments to be making. On the upside my last MRI should be tomorrow. I’m excited to have these done with. Gotta go confirm I have a brain and then color it pretty colors and all done… That’s the plan anyways.
The last three days have been bits and conversations with ChaosMonkey about stuff with his dad. He keeps asking. And, as painful as it is, he’s putting the pieces together whether I want him to or not. It’s interesting, though, to hear his questions, watch him assimilate the information I am willing to give him, and you just see the wheels turning and turning and turning.
Hubby’s wanted me to talk to him straight about this particular topic for a while now, but ChaosMonkey’s just a kid and I didn’t want him worrying about it. He made it clear to me last night that he was worrying whether he knew what exactly was going on or not. Last night was definitely the longest of the talks we’ve had since they started last Sunday. He said before bed that he wanted to continue the conversation today.
He told me a couple of things going on over at his dad’s that had him on the verge of tears; things like TheEx and stepmom had been arguing more over TheEx’s unwillingness to do anything. I asked ChaosMonkey to clarify and he reiterated, “ANYTHING. He won’t want to go to the store or help at the house or watch a movie or anything”. Seems like his dad has done what he did before, get someone to take care of everything for him; take care of the house, ChaosMonkey, finances (she’s working 2 or 3 jobs last I heard whereas he “doesn’t” work), the list kind of goes on. And I would know, I was there myself once.
The driving force behind his questions ad expressions almost seemed to say “How much am I worth to you?” and “How much am I worth to my dad?”.