Thursday, September 27, 2012
Damp towels crumpled on the floor...sheets piled up next to the washer...half-filled mugs of cold coffee...I can hold on to these. But how do I grasp the sounds of fading laughter, the camaraderie of just sitting together, raised eyebrows, inside jokes, reaching out for that which is forever elusive...a much-needed relationship between grown daughter and aging parents?
I am tender today. I feel teary and weary, living in the past, present, and future all at once. Many of my hopes and expectations have been tucked back into the prison where I have kept them all these years, locked and guarded for my safety. Like yeast they will bubble and rise, pushing out of their captivity, overflowing into my life and making a sticky gooey mess, one that I clean up again and again.