troll with a roll of film

the warm feeling of my good day on Tuesday has not lasted. i am cold inside again. we are supposed to be able to recall happier times, wonderful moments, and keep ourselves bolstered with the confidence of what was. but i think there needs to be some kind of balance, or at least a better one than i have.

put the good times, the happy memories on one side of a scale and there should be some heft to it. the bad should not far, far outweigh the good. not by the margin that my scale is tilted.

i am alone all the time in between my daughter's once a week day off. there are people who email me fairly regularly, and keep emailing. some are readers who chose to comment through email. some are my readers from the web magazine i write for. all want me to write to correspond with them in my, i guess to them, unusual style. that has been nice. people know i am out here. i guess you could say i am not "alone" but i do like to occasionally see a face, hear a voice, sit beside someone and listen, and be heard. i am grateful for what i have,

but i want to go home.

i am on a list for emailed updates on real estate in Rockport, MA. it is "home" to me since it is where i lived a life that had love in it. "hey, mom. guess what? someone did love me. got nothing to say? yeah, finally." i was the unlovable one.

we were sitting on the bluff overlooking Whale Cove, {see photo below} on a stormy day. we were silently taking in the stiff, cool wind and listening to the cry of the gulls and the rush of the waves. there was lightning in the distance hence the newly added soundtrack} that Dragon was keeping an eye on. he broke our silence by asking this question:

"Why are you always surprised when you see how much I love you? Would you like to tell me what happened to you?"

"my mother told me i was unlovable. she had said that i may get married but he would not really love me. she was right. he told me i was unlovable. you know the other stuff. but i guess it is just the repetitive syllables of un-love-able being beaten into my brain over and over, and over for years, decades. and you are so beautiful. you are so capable and strong and, you're just a lovely person. how can someone like you love someone like me?"

"I love you because of all the gentleness you have inside you. You see so much beauty in the world. All anyone has to do is take a walk with you outside to know what's in your heart. And after all you've been through, you still carry hope inside you. You still think such beautiful thoughts. The scars you think are ugly tell me the story of your survival to hang on until I could get to you." he put his arm around me and told me, "I will never leave you. I have you now. You're mine, and when there's no more you and I on Earth, there will still be a you and I."

i embroidered that last sentence on my own Memory Quilt. from the look in his eyes, he meant every word of what he said to me. he loved me. he loves me? i love him.

i want to go home. i want to go to the ocean where the sky can be seen without tall buildings in the way and there is grass and sand under my feet. i do not know where home is anymore since home was where he was. i am alone all the time and i am so used to it that when i am out for long, i get anxious. i think, "i should get back. i have work to do. i am having a nice time with {my daughter] but i am not working and i need to work to have value."

i have no value as a friend. "you make the quilts and then they forget about you." "you don't have a car and you're grieving so you're not any help to me and too inconvenient to come and get." i am very low today. a woman, another widow, had entered into the realm of my little world here through the 'Net and she had wondered if i had wanted to go somewhere with her. she knows i have no car. i wrote to her that i would love to go, it was a place i would have loved to have gone and seen, no details here, but i told her my daughter works Saturdays and i have no car. she did not respond until late last night with an email where she wanted me to comfort her while she was having a bad night. i got on Facebook and chatted with her and she felt better. today, she is meeting two other friends at this place, spending the day with them. they both have cars.

the Bun is alone. in her mind, in her empty chest where her heart does not reside anymore, and in her actual physical little Bun Bun world, she is very isolated. she knows people can be alone in a crowd but even being alone in a crowd sounds kind of nice to her today when she knows there is a crowd she could have felt alone in. there were things she could have looked at and taken pictures of. she could have been lonely in that crowd, shuffled along listening to snatches of conversations, feeling the sun on her furry arms and the breeze through her furry fur. tousled fur for Bun would have been a nice warm memory to have added to the meager few she has.
so many people have told her, via email, that they love Bunny. Bunny even now has her own Facebook page. if you want to befriend her, contact me and i will tell you her last name. several of her friends are Canadians. Bunny is big with some people up there. but she wonders if people expect to see Beach Bunny, Bun Bun, The Bun and are disappointed by the countenance that she actually has been cursed with. Bunny is soft and pretty. the real Bunny is a tired, sad woman with a 1000 yard stare. she is hollow-eyed and haunted looking. she is haunted by the love she had finally been given and had to watch leave her.

she returned her daughter's camera and has been using her 35 mm from the ancient days of yore while waiting on her new digital she finally save the money to buy. the real Bunny looks nothing like soft, pretty Bunny with the digital.
she is just a toll with a roll of film. a boho, hippie troll with a creative mind that sees beauty in a world that does not see beauty or value in her because why? she does not own a car? she is not flush with cash to go places, even a little bit? she knows how people could be but choose not to be. Bunny as troll is not pretty on the outside. {her Dragon thought she was. he also said she was pretty on the inside and that is why he loved her.}

is it her? she is the common denominator in a lot of failures and yet,

and yet,

her Dragon loved her just as she was. he spent time with her and got to know her. he learned what made her smile, and laugh. he saw her eyes. he saw her heart. and she gave it to him to keep forever. that is why she has no heart anymore. shhhh. listen. hear that? nothing. yeah. Bunny gave her heart away to Dragon. he took it with him so he does not get lonely for her.

i guess the troll is only really the Bunny to him. get to know the Bun and that outer lovely mirage you think she is becomes the troll. maybe one day, someone will see the Bunny behind the troll and allow the Bun to be a friend. even if she does not have a car.