Nameless

Nameless
Who are these silent strangers waiting for me to know who they are?

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Snippets


Tonight is a sad night. I can’t tell you exactly why, but I feel sad. I will be going back to

WV on Tuesday. It is time for me to go but I still feel very sad. I will miss K very much. I miss my son, too. It’s a funny hollow kind of feeling that I have whenever I think of the people I love being so far away. Some how it seems that the meaningless minutia of life takes on greater importance. Feeling connected is definitely strengthened by sharing of these little things. I know that K doesn’t get that. Sometimes I call her just to hear what she’s up to or tell her what I’m doing. Unfortunately, what I’m doing in my life is often just ordinary things. She shakes her head and wonders why I call ‘just because’ and talk about stupid things like doing laundry, or dishes. I admit, that there are times I have absolutely nothing to say except, I miss you. Of course, these feelings are not limited to my kids. I miss everyone. WV seems so far away and so isolated. Not even my husband really cares about my minutia. You know, the simple things like why I hate that TV commercial or why I liked that movie. Nobody wants to hear a quote from a book they haven’t read, and probably never will read, just because it tickled me. I guess those things are now relegated to the blog. My nameless ancestors will hear all the simple things that I care to dump on them without complaint.

Tonight I was just thinking about the tiny still frames in my mind. The cherished memories that have no significance other than their meaning to me. The sweet sound of K’s voice when she was 2 and the expressions on her face when she told me epic stories. T falling asleep in my arms with his little hand clutching mine. The wonderful relaxation of having a cigarette and watching the horses with a friend. Some of my snippets go back to my own childhood. Laughing with my mom at 2 in the morning over some silly thing and sharing a snack. Sleeping in the back of the car with the murmuring of my parents voices in the front. A collage of images, feelings and senses that I wish I could frame and hang on my wall.

1 comment:

  1. "A collage of images, feelings and senses that I wish I could frame and hang on my wall." You've hung them on this wall, here.

    I remember that cigarette, my friend.

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