Strong enough ...

I have been sitting on the floor of her bedroom for the last two hours.  The packers were efficient, but still in my way, regardless.  I still have piles of receipts to organize, several posts remaining to write.  If I didn’t get some of the work done before we hit the road, I would be late getting them turned in.  The last thing I needed in the middle of all of this would be to let my last couple of assignments slide.

I can’t imagine what I would have done today if the kids had been here.  The chaos of the final days of picking up the house and relocating it across the ocean would have done them in.  I am so thankful for friends right now, even though it’s been strained lately.  As soon as I told them, the distance started.  I heard about dinners that we weren’t invited to, the next morning.  The kids got asked to less playdates than normal.  I guess I understand, but when I confronted Susan about it, she just said there was no point in pretending we would still be here in a couple of weeks.

Shit, I really have no idea what we’re doing.  I try to press the doubts out of my head by pressing my fingertips hard into my temples.  When I said ‘Why Not’ I really meant it, but I sit here wondering what the hell I was thinking.  I’ve always been gutsy, but it usually ended up in a weekend campout, or a new tattoo.  

I guess I wanted most of all to show my support for his career.  At first it was fun researching about our move.  It was nearly hysterical to tell the random stranger that we encountered about India.  The looks on their faces ...

When he left though to start the job, and I was left at home to clean up all of the loose ends and tie up all of the messes ... or is that phrase supposed to be clean up the messes and tie up the loose ends ... I’m so tired I can’t even think straight.  The house ... selling this house, trying to figure out what to do with the car, arguing with the school about releasing the kids’ records early ...

Hearing the door open jarred me out of my internal musings. 

So, ma’am ... we found this pile of cards and things in the bottom of the spice cupboard.  Pack it with the kitchen things?

I stood up and held out my hands for the ribbon wrapped stack. 

Absent-mindedly, I dropped them all next to the yellow immunization cards and closed my eyes, leaning against the bare walls.  Ah, I had forgotten to make copies of the receipts for the travel clinic.  And did I remember to pack the kids’ blankets in the suitcases, or had the movers now stuffed them in with the toilet paper?  The ribbon came untied with my toss, and now all of it was  splayed in a huge mess across the floor.

On the top, familiar handwriting.

To you,

You are so little, yet I can already see that you are spunky, beautifully sassy and oh so strong.  I have a feeling you will be quite the adventurer.  I would dare predict that you will be never content to live a life that is commonplace, or one that keeps your feet rooted anywhere for too long ...

My eyes well up ... I so needed my papa's reassurance, even though he was no longer here.  I needed someone to remind me that I am strong enough for this ...

The prompt this time was ::

"You or your character find a forgotten letter or card from someone important in your life--whether good or bad.  What does it say?  How does it affect you or your character?  What is done with it?"

On Life.

Josie tilted her head to the side and a whimpering sound came out, instead of her own voice.  Clearing her throat and struggling to try again, finally ...

I’m sorry, she says.  I think I’ve misunderstood?

The blurred face in front of her shook his head again.  In a sympathetic gesture, he reached out to take her hand, to steady her as her knees shook.  It felt as though she had just run the final miles of a marathon.  Her heart beating so fast it could be seen outside of her sweater. Her legs as jelly and her hands shaking, with cold sweat pooling.

He was just here.  I just talked to him.  What do you mean?  This can’t be?

He steadied her again, this time a bit more firmly.  Asking her to sit down, to just please sit down.

You have it all wrong.  You are wrong!
 
Inside, she began to ache so quickly.  She understood.  She realized that is indeed what it feels like to lose life.  To have life taken away from you so suddenly. 

In one instant, she was surprisingly able to see every minute detail of his face, the way his eyes changed colors just before the dark of the iris began.  She could smell the strange combination of shaving cream and laundry detergent on his hanky.  The many wrinkles that were just as much a part of his smile as his lips.

Without warning, her thoughts were suddenly halted as dizziness overtook her normally stout body and she realized she was glad he had asked her to sit down.

I just don’t understand.  He was just here.

(Following a prompt at The Red Dress Club for a piece of flash fiction, 300 words or less, with the theme prompt of LIFE.  Not quite sure what flash fiction is, but it IS under 300 words ...)

On being vulnerable

There was a time that I would have refused to admit I was ever ridiculed. 

To admit being ridiculed means that I was vulnerable, weak and allowed myself to be hurt.

What kind of fool allows themselves to be hurt.  Doesn't that equate to self-loathing and self-hatred?  Vulnerability smacks of being so lame and immature that you have no principles. Or at least looks like the little girl standing alone at the school playground.  Being left to stand alone with no barriers of protection.  No walls surrounding the exposed parts of everything that makes you fragile, unique.

I loved him with my whole being.  The thought of waiting until the next time I could see him was most times unbearable.  I was proud to be seen with him.  I was thrilled that he had chosen me. Together, when in his presence, I felt better.  I felt like a better person.  Hell, even when he wasn’t near me or physically present I still felt like I could take over the world.

He hadn’t promised me anything.  In fact, I think now ... to look back on it all, that I imagined every conversation during which he would offer ‘forever.‘   I carried on with my existence of calling him my boyfriend with a false sense of security, that our ‘forever’ would indeed be that.

He came to my house just before Christmas.  He ended it.  Took everything that I had based my future on and in a speech that lasted just shy of 50 seconds, ridiculed me.  Having purged his conscious, he then walked out.

I didn’t think I would love again.  Not like I had loved him.  My mode of operation after that Christmas was to selfishly put myself at the front of the line.  The word “ME” topped every list of goals and aspirations.

After one relationship disaster that ended just before Christmas, several Thanksgivings later, I had no choice but to love again.  Into my life walked the man who would promise me forever.  His assurances of never leaving, never walking out have meant a slow evolution of vulnerability.  Choosing to reveal the ME that I’ve protected all of this time.

I now know what it means to be loved, and to love.  Surprisingly, the kind of love that truly reverberates through ones being doesn’t include ridicule at all.  It doesn’t come with a one-sided imbalance of trust, loyalty or respect.  Instead, it encourages vulnerability.

It sees the lack of protective walls as encouragement to motivate.  It sees the absence of protection as an invitation to be the strength for those that are indeed, loved.

The first time I loved after being ridiculed ...

Over at the Red Dress Club, the prompt is ::  The first time I ________-ed after _________-ing.