dreams of renewal

my mind is turning more and more inward. i just had two days off in a row. two days of staying here in the apartment working on a widow's quilt for one of her sons. two days of no talking to anyone but my daughter when she called once a day. otherwise i did not speak at all.

i find it easy to not speak. should that bother me? or should i be grateful that being so utterly alone is easy, and always has been? i've always turned inward to escape my life. mother, father, brother ~ check. first husband and the out-laws ~ check. widowhood ~ check. inward i go and i fantasize. i write in my head and carry it forth to the computer.

i've written 3 novels, over 600 pages each. so different in genre and yet, not really in vein. one is about a woman who escapes from abuse. one is about a woman who gets murdered before she can be saved. one is about Hell. they are all written from my soul and my observations of people, and from my misery. i write to expunge the poison. i write to vent. i write to free myself.

"It is an interesting biological fact that all of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears.

We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea--whether it is to sail or to watch it--

we are going back from whence we came."
- John F. Kennedy

i dream of being renewed. i dream of a home by the ocean. i dream of salt water and gulls, of sand and driftwood, and shells. i dream of sleeping a rest-filled sleep with dreams that do not haunt me once i awaken.
i dream of kinder mornings where i can walk on sand and feel water swirl around my ankles, where i look down at shells and small crabs scurrying, and out at infinity.
i dream of sunrises and sunsets that warm my home with their light and promise of days that do not hurt, that do not have stress or worry in them. i dream of looking out at the water from every window and every door.
i dream of rebuilding myself one shingle at a time, one porch, and one window. if i could live by the ocean in a home, a real and true home that i own and no one can take it away from me, i think i could do this widow thing.
i think if i were home, i could find myself again and then start to heal. until then, i am a lost and abandonedsoul searching for peace, searching for a way to stand up for herself, searching for the water she no longer sees. not even off on the horizon.

i feel childish in writing this but i wish for things i cannot have or cannot find. i wish for a different life. i wish i lived beside the ocean in a little house, a real home that is mine. i wish for a small group of friends who have known me, known the "us" i used to be. i wish for a past that doesn't haunt and hurt and i wish for a future that is safer, more calm, more peaceful. all these things i find inside myself though. i daydream, and night dream. i know they will never be true in a physical sense, but i can live in my dreams.

what would he say to me if he could see me now? what would he think of this body whose carriage is strikingly weary looking? what would he think of eyes that cry over harsh words and being ignored or dumped? what would he do if he saw me laying on a bed that is sometimes without sheets or pillowcases because i am too tired to pull them out of the dryer? what would he say to me as i research what to eat, count pennies, and struggle to smile a fake smile? would he cry? would he offer comfort? would he turn and abandon me too, because i no longer look like the me he knew. i look like the old me from when i was ruled by tyrants. i look like a far older, more exhausted version of that old me when i had nothing and no one to save me, to comfort me, to reach out to or work for.

oh, my heavens, and in saying that, did i just admit that i am not worth me saving me? must contemplate that.

i wish anyone who reads this, peace and this nugget of truth. try to always be kind. you never know what kind of anguish or how deep it runs that someone may be hiding.

the gift of color

i love color. bright sunny days, cold, crisp. the bite of the up-coming winter that is in the air as you walk before noon warms up the sunlight. i love (loved) walking with him on days like that. days like in my photos.

slow pace. holding hands. stopping for me to take a picture.

so different here. so empty now. i'm tired of worry. i'm tired of hurting. i'm lonely for him.

he made me laugh. he made me sigh. he made me feel like no matter how bad life treated us, we'd survive. now i'm just not sure sometimes. but my son called me earlier tonight. he told me that no matter what, i'd be alright. he wasn't going to let anything bad happen to me. he told me, "you're my mom and you've had it so rough. but you're brave. you're the strongest person i know." and i cried and told him i wasn't anymore. he told me i was and that he would bring me to live with him in his new house if it came to it, if i couldn't make it all work. he told me to always know, last thought before i try to sleep, that i was going to be alright.

i'm tired from sewing all day. i'm headed for bed, to try and find a way to sleep. i hope i can find some hope somewhere. find a way to breathe a little more deeply without so much pressure or desolation weighing me down. maybe i packed it up and it's in the closet.

i'll try to find it tomorrow. tonight, well, tonight my son says i'm going to be okay. i heard a bit of our Dragon in his voice. i think i can find some sleep realizing that.

enjoy the color up there. the world can be such a beautiful place.

my wedding anniversary

"once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale." ~ anonymous

it's August 11th, my love. our anniversary. we always started it in each others arms so today is already a harsh jolt. i am alone.

i'd sit and watch you make breakfast for me. no breakfast in bed for then i wouldn't be able to watch you cook. we would talk or plan what we wanted to do with our day. i'd watch you, clean up a bit after you to help, but for the most part you wanted to wait on me. i got my own breakfast this morning, as i do every morning since you died.

on our anniversary we'd plan a long walk, whether through the woods, down on the beach, or across the rocks and cliffs high above the ocean, we walked. you'd find rocks, leaves, wildflowers, shells and sometimes the miracle sand dollar that is so difficult to find. we won't find anything together today. i'm not going anywhere today.

supper would be a repeat of breakfast. tonight, i can't think that far. i don't know what i'll do here alone tonight.

and after supper we always sat together and remembered our wedding vows. we'd get our saved little papers and read them again to each other. my vows were for the promise of my hand, my heart, and my thoughts, my whole life. i also promised you one more thing.

"all these things are mortal so i promise you one more thing. i promise to give my soul to you so that you are not alone. never alone."

you told me you were never good with words but, my dear, you were so very often better than i ever could hope to be. my writing is flowery, lyrical. yours is to the point and oh, so heartfelt. your vows to me were: "i love you. i want you. you are my whole world. i thought of you as mine the moment i saw you and held my breath until i saw myself in your eyes. i'll never leave you. i'll always be with you because i'll always want to be with you. you are the woman of my dreams, the one i've been waiting for. and now, i may call you what i've wanted to call you since the day we were introduced and have longed to say. wife."

you would gift me with a story from your secret past, speaking to the danger and adrenalin rush. you would see how in awe i am of you and shake your head and laugh. i'd tell you no spy novel could be better written than the story of your life. john le Carre would be envious of what you've seen and know.

then it would be my turn. i'd give you a book i'd written. a small thing, always a short story. the continuing tale of the Dragon and the womanNshadows, of their love and how a fairy tale could not speak to such a marriage. of how Shakespeare could only come close to describing the depth of our love.

i have kept them all. i haven't been able to read them and i doubt it would be good for me to do so today. it would be akin to a howitzer to the heart. but i took a photo of a few of them to post with my note to you. i couldn't let our anniversary go by without a bit of a story about us. it's too deeply ingrained. you deserve to have your memory honored, the story of our love and marriage told over and over. you deserve only the best because you are the best.

that you died did not mean you broke your promise to never leave me. my love for you is such that even the deep and abiding grief i feel could not tarnish it with anger towards you. you didn't want to go. you were taken from me.

i love you, Dragon. i miss you so terribly that the physical ache threatens to bring me to my knees with my head in the dirt. i may stop moving forward with any noticeable speed, but i'll never stop loving you, thinking only of you, or waiting for you. i may have been your world but you were my whole life.

happy anniversary, my Dragon. i'm alone and longing for you. loving you. unfaltering.