Ponderings, Laundry Room Shenanigans and Beautiful Skies

Here I am, still. The Monk arrives day after tomorrow and then time will speed up and before I know it, I will be back home, wiping Sir Chips Ahoy’s butt. I feel like I’ve been here exactly as long as I’ve been here, almost three months. I am acclimated. 84 degrees now seems on the chilly side.


I feel like I am supposed to be doing something here. Not just sitting with her in the afternoon watching cooking and travel shows and making her tea in the late evenings and taking her to her doctor appointments. I feel like I’m supposed to “wrap things up”, conclude and resolve and make right all wrongs. Express my innermost self and listen to confessions, admissions, lessons. It’s not like that at all. It’s quiet and I am on almost constant orange alert, exasperated with myself mostly for these auto pilot feelings. They are upon me before thought, they erupt like little volcanoes. Thankfully I do not allow them to flow freely, diverting the flow instead into a reservoir where I can study them later and then release them. What does it matter if I understand why or where as long as I can just let it all go. In the end none of it really matters. What she did, what I did, what she said etc. Is there any real gain in getting it all sorted out and understood? Will anything be different? I don’t know. Some relationships are meant to be worked on and out and through to a deep place and others, just aren’t. Though I believe we are here for the purpose of connecting with one another, I don’t think it’s possible to do so with everyone. There are degrees. Levels. Depth isn’t always possible for whatever reason and it can feel like a failure. But it isn’t. These are things I am examining in between rain storms and swimming, reading and cooking and eating and watching way too much TV. I long to be home. I long to have this life figured out enough to maneuver my way through with some semblance of grace and gratitude. I long for a greasy BLT.


There is something afoot in the apt complex laundry room. There have been no less than three notices about “activities” and measures taken to put a stop to them. Locks were installed but broom handles and bricks were used to prevent the locking. Another notice this morning warns that stronger measures are being taken. Cameras will now be installed. They’re watching you, whoever you laundry room marauders are.  

Shots from this afternoon….





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6 comments

  1. Yep. Looks like Melbourne. I love the Spanish architecture, the tile roofs.
    You know, I heard a guy on NPR talking about his mother and how he kept thinking they should have some sort of soul-searching come-to-Jesus ending before she died and they didn't but he's come to realize that they talked so much in the years before she died and they didn't NEED that big cathartic thing. Maybe that's what's going on here. And like you said- we cannot connect with everyone on that deep, cosmic level. It's just not possible.
    I'm so glad you're going to get to go home. Probably not a millionth as much as you are, but I am glad.

    Like

  2. I know the feeling, I really do. I also had to deal with an overbearing older brother… between he and my Mother and the constantness of being reminded that I was the baby of the family … the only girl … and schtupid as hell … made me live with trying to 'fix it' a nightmare … I tried.

    I really tried. didn't work. I got totally okay with my innards that I had done the best I could. When she died? I said buh bye to the family. how in the hell I got into that family is really interesting … talk about having a bone to pick with the who/whatever was responsible? … man?

    You'll be on your way soon… you have done good. I did this for two years. because of feeling obligated. I did love her but did not like her … never did.

    and she left this world with my disliking her even more. man that's sad.

    hahaaa greasy BLT… oh, yum

    Like

  3. There's a complete novel in this post, Yo!

    But wait, hold the mustard…..YOU want a greasy BLT?!? I thought pig was the Dishwasher's guilty pleasure, not yours, O'Vegan of the sea?!? Shows you how much I know!

    Wish I was there with you, the Monk and your Mom….truly.

    Namaste

    Like

  4. Ms Moon…I really like this town. Found a new to me Cuban joint down by the water today. yum!
    It's kind of a relief accepting that the big cathartic thing is not always possible or necessary. I'm just here, present. That's something.
    I know you know all about going home. Being home. Sinking in to home.
    Can hardly wait!

    Angella, I don't feel very wise. I feel like I'm “winging it”. Where's the freaking handbook?
    Thank you for being here.

    Carolyn, I think getting okay with your innards, well, that's everything right there. That's what I'm looking for! Sounds like you did good too. Thank you for saying so.

    Like


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