30 August 2006

Eviction Notice

He has until September 15th, then I’m journeying to the place inside of me where I still let him reside, and tossing him and all of his luggage (turns out a lot of it was empty) out onto the street. I’ve probably given him shelter far too long; I know this; it’s just that I have a hard time letting go of things that once meant so much to me.

Letting him stay is just too hard anymore—he’s zapping my resources and energy and when I think that I might have met someone worthy of my time, his ghost curls up beside me and whispers fairytales into my head,
“But I might come back, give me time, I think of you everyday”.

Why September 15th? I don’t think I have it in me to go that much longer; my mind is growing weary from the creaks that he makes crossing the floorboards, and my heart is heavy from holding the door open for so long.

I’ve let him stay for many reasons, but the only ones that are valid anymore are bright blue. They pierce me to the core of my being when I wonder how I will come up with the strength to look into them one day and tell her that her dad knows she exists, but that he doesn’t want her. The look that I’m sure will be in her eyes is the image that I’ll keep in my mind when I’m wondering if I really have it in me to let him go. I know that I’ll have a lifetime of cleaning to do after I toss him out, but I’m ready for that: it’s far better than leaving a room filled with broken promises scattered about and dashed hopes collecting dust on the shelves, wasting space in my heart.

I’m going to redecorate the room and paint it bright colors; I’m going to hang beautiful pictures of a happy family of us three girls on the walls; I’m going to let Ella draw whatever she wants on the floor, and give her a comfy chair that she can sit in if she’d like to visit there for a while; I’m going to have big windows that the breeze can roll through and a polished wood floor that the girls can slide around on as they chase rainbows from the prisms hanging from the ceiling, and a big chest where cherished memories can be stored away and visited time and again when the urge strikes. Then maybe someday when the sun is going down and I enter it, I won’t think of my former tenant and how sad and lonely the room used to be, but rather about what a beautiful place it turned out to be.

28 August 2006

The Shape of Things to Come

Big A and I went shopping at Marshall's to find her some shirts for school. We had a blast, and found tons of great buys that she genuinely loved. I just didn't know how much...

On the way home, she told me again that she loved her shirts, especially the ones that fit "kind of tight, you know, not too tight, but that show off my shape." After I resumed breathing, I asked her what she meant. She informed me that she liked clothes that made her look skinny, and that she is skinny on her stomach, so sort of tight shirts were her favorite. Now hear me out: the child did not buy anything tight, tummy baring, or that I would deem inappropriate. I'm not one of the moms that thinks it's cute if her daughter wears adult fashions that you might see in a bar on Saturday night.

HELP ME OUT HERE!! How old were you when you noticed that a certain pair of pants made your booty look better, or a particular shirt made your waist look smaller? I don't remember much about my wardrobe when I was eight, but I'm pretty sure that I wasn't focusing on "my shape", but rather that my pants were zipped....