Martedì 1 Gen 2013, 21:02

i imagine life incredibly different then how it unfolds, even as it is unfolding. i allow myself chronic daydreams, fascinations and indulgences which distract me from the boring, routine, decaffeinated version presented to me from all directions. this is my super power, and this is my unique talent ive cultivated since youth.

i remember my parents arguing from the kitchen, their voices raised, cursing and swearing and disagreeing about things i could not fully understand. i remember the tension building, and how all of my senses seemed heightened. and then i can not remember how those memories end. because i learned to slip away. removed from that uncomfortable reality… into a rearranged looking glass.

i escaped to the porch which wrapped around the front of the house, facing the river. i laid there staring at the breeze blowing gently through leaves on bushes and trees. i followed her unpredictable patterns as she lifted and twirled and swooshed and sank after climbing each branch. hours slipped by, while i crunched myself in between bush and brick steps, camouflaged by shadows the afternoon sun left just for me. the marina next door moored sail boats most of the year. but in the summer every buoy was chained to a vessel. the wind lined them up, and faced them like soldiers saluting her majesty.

the sails were raised and lowered every day, secured by long wire ropes. these wires were wind chimes, set at high pitches determined by tautness and fabrication. clang. clang. clangclangclang. i can here them chime, no rhythm, no rhyme. i could find my way home from any adventure as long as the wind blew.

some days were breathless, the water like sheets of glass, reflected the clouds hung for the whole day. on still days, other sounds erupted. birds chirped, cawed, screeched, flapped, honked and quacked. water splashed against walls made of rock to hold back impending floods and high tides. boats revved, dogs barked, tractors mowed, and giggles were audible from miles away.

when the wind slept late, or died down earlier than the sun, crickets chirped, bats whizzed, horses whinnied, and dinner bells rang.

the sounds and sights were easily tuned in to. the smells and tastes of counter pain required a more curious pallet. chlorine in the pool, bloated fish on the beach, goose laid eggs gone to rot, the pasture our horses roamed, clay from the beach smoothed over my face and slipped into my mouth, fires burning sticks collected after large storms, diesel gasoline from the marinas, sun block, laundry freshly washed and hung to dry, cherry blossoms, crab apple blossoms, and lilac and lily's in early spring. dusty old barns being swept for bails of fresh hay every fall. winter snow melting on solid soaked soil. still water, meals prepared, and finished with the last drop of milk swallowed down.

and last but not least… every fiber of me, feeling every fiber presented to me…pricks from holly leaves downed on the sidewalk pierced my tender barefooted soles. rough rocks lined the long and winding driveway to the majestic river stoned gates. scraped knees from climbed trees. itchy blisters from leaves of three that touched me. mosquito bites. horse tails whipped scattering flies. cool water swallowing me into her silent blurry tranquil bliss. sand smoothed over tanned legs. shards of glass dragged down unblemished skin, sounding alarms that all is not well, in this hell.

the rough shingles impressed by my run away bum after lights out on second floors lay dark to the night. and whispers so silently seducing the moon, to soften the pain and lull my raging mind off to sleep with one of her melodic, magical tunes.

when push comes to shove, and the scene threatens to offend, i slip silently away to a place far far away. comforted by the way things ought to be. amused by the many who pass unaware… heaven's passing them by. they imagine some kingdom up off in the sky, and they pray on their pillow for admittance whenever they die. but we become nothing more than the next layer of soot, to cushion the remarkable creation i adore, underfoot.