Physics… the shit ain’t…

Physics… the shit ain’t…

Excepting that it goes around and around… solid and unbreakable – always returning to the point that our love is what makes us tick.

We bought our wedding rings today. Same exact ring for each of us. I’ve NEVER seen him so happy before.
It’s really happening…

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Nothing Like it…

Nothing Like It….

I said to him…

Your hands have been on my mind all day…
leaving their soft imprint
The way you touch my body is magical…

And he said…

I love you too.

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Pedastal

Pedastal

There are certain people in your life that, for whatever reason, you place on a pedastal. The first of which tend to be your parents. They’re not human. They’re super human. With super powers. Infallible. Unable to do wrong or think or behave like a human being. My brother told me a line from a movie once that said “Mother is the word for God on the lips and hearts of every child.” That’s huge… Anytime anything would happen: good, bad, joyful, hurtful, confusing, crazy, interesting, mundane… the first word out of your mouth is “MOMMY!” or for some of us even, “DADDY!” And our world revolves around their approval. Their attention. Their validation. At the hair dresser the other day, the baby daughter of the woman doing my hair wanted her mother’s attention. She wanted it BADLY. All she really wanted to tell her was that the crumpled little piece of paper in her hand was an airplane… and see what Mommy would say about it. Of course, mommy was busy so she didn’t really pay her any mind. And the little girls just crumbled. She didn’t cry aloud for the world to see or to make a scene. She sobbed quietly because right there, her day was ruined. God bless the short attention span of a child. Because 2 minutes later, something else caught her attention and the fact that her mother had glossed her over was nothing to her at all.

It’s amazing. No matter what I did, my mom was a superhero to me. Didn’t matter what – no one was as smart, no one was as pretty, no one was as kind, no one was as wise, no one smelled better, no one cooked better, no one could take the pain away better, no one was a better pillow, no one wiped tears better, no one celebrated life better, no one’s smile was sweeter, no one’s laugh was so jovial, no one’s tears hurt more, no one’s hands were as soft, no one’s opinion meant more, no one worked harder, no one cared more that my Mommy. I placed her on the highest pedastal a little girl could find. The one on the shelf right below God. (Only because Mommy told me to). She was it. My idol. My role model. The embodiment of all things I ever wanted to be and would ever hope to become. As I write this… I still feel that little girl dancing inside of me… cheering for her Mommy. Because I do still think she’s the best. I don’t understand the woman that has replaced her. She looks like my mom and her voice sounds the same. But … she’s not that woman. I fear that time will morph me the same way with disease and age — and one day some little eyes that looked to me for everything will look at me like I’m crazy for the things I say and believe.

I’m sorry that her life really didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped. I was hoping to be the reprieve of that life. A second chance that she could live through me. But she won’t let me… She’s pushed me far enough away that, for the sake of the memory that I have on the pedastal… I’ll let her be.

Happy birthday, Mommy. I miss you.

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So Much On My Mind…

So Much On My Mind…

As the days push forward towards the big day, I feel that I’m progressively shutting down my creative facilities (which also house my happy-go-lucky, joyful side) and shifting into auto pilot – under which I tend to be more unfeeling and generally cold. I guess it makes sense. A lot of the things happening right now are direct attacks to my sensitivities and if the shift wasn’t happening, I’d be terribly hurt and offended. I’m still offended – but just angry about it – not so much hurt. The bottom line is that everyone has the potential to be an idiot… but some folks just really go for the stars in terms of reaching it. Excluding no one… everyone from close family members to distant friends. Births, Weddings, Deaths. THEY ALL show their asses. So, again, I’m happy to be shifting down into my “get-it-done” phase and not really feeling the hurt that I’d normally feel by the “no’s” or the “i can’t come if my boyfriend can’t” or the “my sister can’t come can I bring my grandmother instead” or the “how dare you send me an invite – i’m family” or the “how dare you not send me an invite, I’m family!” or the “OHHH… I planned a vacation that weekend – I didn’t know that was gonna be your date” (we’ve only been shouting it for 2 years).

You know, under normal circumstances, it’d be okay for me to have a total hissy fit about people’s behaivour. But because it’s directly tied into a wedding, it’s been thusly labeled “Bridezilla” and heaven forbid that you actually have one negative feeling during this whole process. I know the difference between a regular stressed out bride and a ‘Zilla. ‘Zilla’s go INTO the process like this. I wasn’t like this at the start. I was happy and optimistic and looking forward to seeing many family members and friends that I’ve not seen in a long time. But now… I’ve been refocused by all the women who’ve trudged this path before me.

So long as Earl is at the end of that aisle… and the minister is there to marry us … and we have at least 2 witnesses…

Nothing else matters.

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