It makes no difference to me. I would be happy with just one minute in your arms.
I am not watching family guy.
I have lain on the beach today with my husband. Although I was not tired, I laid on the star wars sheet and I suppose slept, but it felt like consciousness, but when I was not in this state - I knew I must have been sleeping.
I was basking in the sun - even though when I was a child, I distinctly remember playing in the ocean in savannah with my blond curly hair and avocado green cotton bikini and my chubby tummy poking out - I remember that I thought the women insane.
The men (my father and brother) would play with me in the ocean as much as I wanted, but my sister and mother and aunt and cousin would lay on the beach and read and do something I found miserably strange - sunbathing. They laid in the sun, and I pitied them.
Even then, I was a savior, and I pleaded with them and tugged their arms to go play with me in the ocean. It was so much more fun I cajoled.
Then I became dejected and rejected - not understanding. I would play by myself, or my father and I would go out until it was so deep even my father couldn't touch the bottom. It was like being in the dark. You are terrified alone, but crave it with another. The safety in camaraderie. He would take me surfing on the waves. We would play for hours. He would toss me in the air. My brother would toss me back.
But when, my mother or sister came out to play it was a joy.
They were so beautiful. My mother young and with her blond hair - and my haughty sister with her young arrogant sexiness... They would become nymphs. It was when I saw my birth parents happy. We were in the water in savannah, georgia once. All five members of my blood were in the waves where none of us could touch the bottom. This means so much to me right now that I am teary and mortal.
This memory is one I never have thought of, and I thank you mirror for loving you. Without this tug from you, I wouldn't write. I wouldn't have remembered my family.
This sounds so silly... so purple. Forgive me. It is a hard thing to describe. My mother never got her hair wet, and would always do this trained breast stroke (I think of her now as a five year old and taking swimming lessons at macon's community pool). My sister was a goddess. She had long brown hair with streaks and was as tan as the cherokee indians rumoured to be in our bloodline. Her blue eyes (and my mother's) were things I envied greatly. My brother and father and I had hazel eyes. (and you can only see the green when our pupils are contracted in bright light).
Lady, I have scraped my glass pipe cleaner than god. I have breathed sat nahm fifty seven times today. I am drinking a glass of red wine (and I have had two and a half negro mondelo's).
Lady, I would do it again. This pain I feel isn't abating. It is growing right now in fact.
I hope that you can hear - hear me singing through these tears.
Time is a jet plane. It moves too fast, oh but what a shame that all we had can't last.
I CAN CHANGE I SWEAR.
I realized today that my husband loves me. He loves me like I love the great hope of another. He loves me like the songs I hear to feel sorry for my state and pity and the lost ones in my life. I am the most amazing thing he has ever met. He's going out of his mind like a pain that stops and starts - like a corkscrew through his heart.
I have known this, sure.
But to see it. to know that you have done this.
Your lack has created this. What was supposed to be - was wanted to be - what was needed to be - didn't happen. It is not occurring.
You can not go home again.
The pictures mock you, and you have to laugh.
You have to remember that you were loved. You have to remember your family floating in the water. You have to remember you and your father floating in the water.
You have to remember singing to the ocean and floating all alone.
When you cry, no one is ever around. The shower curtain never opens. The door never knocks.