Home in Kitsap
Aug. 15th, 2008 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nonionayI've taken a sudden three day weekend to come home to keep my mom company while dad takes a well deserved break. I don't have to spend every minute with Mom, so if anyone wants to make the trek to Poulsbo for coffee or whatever, I'd love to see you. Don't worry, you don't have to meet my mom.
In other news, I set myself up for heartbreak every time I come home. Today, as I stepped off the train into a vague fantasy I knew would not come true, I told myself it's because I need to remember I still have a heart, even if I left part of it four years in the past. There's a cold, hard zone between the world and my heart, and I need to keep daring to cross it, scary as it is, or I'll never see my heart again.
So I'll listen to my mother babble, get a guilty self-satisfaction for doing my familial duty, and tell myself that the person I once was is no better or worse than the one I am now. I'll face my fear of having to do this permanently if anything happens to my dad (who, though relatively healthy, is 11 years older than my mom). I'll face my fear of getting old and having no one to take care of me.
She just came down to tell me she wants to go out for Mexican tonight, instead of having spaghetti like she suggested earlier. In the hour or so I've been here, she's done well. I bought her an ice cream sandwich before I got here, which she was happy to have. Dad was worried she wouldn't open the door for me, but she's happy as can be. She told me about the cat, Tizzy, which, she said, is a Serengeti cat, a type of lion which needs to be starved at age one, but Tizzy wasn't starved until age three, so she's stunted. (Maybe I'm used to monster Teisel, but Tizzy really is tiny, though padded with fur.) She said Marilyn Monroe gave her Tizzy.
Now, she's anxious and wants to go to the restaurant right away, before it gets dark. I explained the sun wouldn't set for six hours. She got confused and asked me what month it is.
Oh, dear god, she's going to be up all night.
Coming home is me spending my time in the Underworld. Thinking about my mom in terms of my personal mythology has helped me come to terms with her in my life, but it always makes me sad that I can only relate to her as an archetypal image, and not a human being.
So, yeah. Coffee, anyone? I promise I won't angst at you. :-)
In other news, I set myself up for heartbreak every time I come home. Today, as I stepped off the train into a vague fantasy I knew would not come true, I told myself it's because I need to remember I still have a heart, even if I left part of it four years in the past. There's a cold, hard zone between the world and my heart, and I need to keep daring to cross it, scary as it is, or I'll never see my heart again.
So I'll listen to my mother babble, get a guilty self-satisfaction for doing my familial duty, and tell myself that the person I once was is no better or worse than the one I am now. I'll face my fear of having to do this permanently if anything happens to my dad (who, though relatively healthy, is 11 years older than my mom). I'll face my fear of getting old and having no one to take care of me.
She just came down to tell me she wants to go out for Mexican tonight, instead of having spaghetti like she suggested earlier. In the hour or so I've been here, she's done well. I bought her an ice cream sandwich before I got here, which she was happy to have. Dad was worried she wouldn't open the door for me, but she's happy as can be. She told me about the cat, Tizzy, which, she said, is a Serengeti cat, a type of lion which needs to be starved at age one, but Tizzy wasn't starved until age three, so she's stunted. (Maybe I'm used to monster Teisel, but Tizzy really is tiny, though padded with fur.) She said Marilyn Monroe gave her Tizzy.
Now, she's anxious and wants to go to the restaurant right away, before it gets dark. I explained the sun wouldn't set for six hours. She got confused and asked me what month it is.
Oh, dear god, she's going to be up all night.
Coming home is me spending my time in the Underworld. Thinking about my mom in terms of my personal mythology has helped me come to terms with her in my life, but it always makes me sad that I can only relate to her as an archetypal image, and not a human being.
So, yeah. Coffee, anyone? I promise I won't angst at you. :-)
