the eagle has landed

In the summer, my writing dropped off. It lemming-ed off a cliff. There was too much fun to be had out there, and a lot of daylight to have the fun in. It was really a spectacular time. It aches a little to even imagine the summer. There are good times now, to be sure. But one must be more creative when there’s no sunshine.

It’s fascinating; I can sit down and work through a memory that’s hard to swallow no matter how deep into the past it goes. I could tell you about the time I got a D in math and an F in sewing. In the same trimester. My freshman year in high school. I remember driving past the McDonald's and telling my mom, and her being really upset, and it being near Christmas. And me giving her a copy of A Wish for Wings that Work that year, and the tears that ensued. Why didn’t I just do my homework? I think I was bored. I’m pretty sure that was it.

I remember when my sister told me our grandfather had died, and she explained death to me as something that happens to someone to make them go away forever. We were playing in my room, and she told me I would never see him again. I wasn’t upset. More curious than anything. I remember mom crying and dad hugging her. She was 34. I was 5.

I remember my first broken heart. It happened at a coffee shop. Smashed to smithereens.

Different coffee shop, different day. Not smashed, but thoroughly annoyed.

Where was I going with this? I am trying to remember.

I live inside my own head like everyone else. Making complicated stories and punishing myself and others for things that might happen maybe. Working out the steps one by one and making action plans for the just-in-cases. They rarely happen.

Writing renders it simple, all of the noise and the guessing. It allows me to confess, to step back; own my actions. I can go back to the beginning and start again, looking at life and making sense of the moments the best I can, or moving beyond the upset apple cart that has no meaning. It’s just a mess, plain and simple.

I’m closing my eyes, and I can see the joy in it all. I’m thinking of an animal that starts with the letter “L.” I’m waiting in line for both of us because it’s warm and we have no place to go. I’m wading through the crowd and I can’t hear anything but it’s so amazing to be with all these happy strangers. I’m thinking of dinner last night. I’m holding a weight above my head to see if I can do it the longest. And I can. I’m eating candy until I’m regretting not taking care of that cavity before I lost my dental insurance. And then I’ll have some more. I’m waiting in a different line and I see you again, and I wrap my scarf around myself like a straitjacket so you notice me. We're close together on the plane and I'm scared like always, but I'd go anywhere with you. I’m cleaning my daughter’s house of madness.

“What are you doing, kid?” I asked her.

“I’m closing my eyes.”