The disconnect continues.
My isolation is manifesting.
Physically…
Distance and meaning. The absence of my mother weighs heavy. Her breath, I believe, is strong.
Her mind is a trap. A series of loops that instantly lose their way.
Her birthday has gone by and yet she sees herself younger
Dreaming of walking by herself to school
of walking beautiful trails, alone, just yesterday
and time… it no longer exists.
I tried to call her, that modern warping of space that makes far away seem close. It was disconnected, much like her mind. I sent her cookies… I suspect they are rotting in a mysterious hidden box somewhere… unknown, unopened, the note of love still neatly folded.
A visit in person is hard. Distance is real. Then to see her in her moments. She is mostly in the moment… only. And there is a bliss I envy. Yet the sadness I feel for her is deep. Her repetitive moments are exasperating, but not to her. Breathe deep. Joke. Laugh. Try.
Emotionally…
My household is a combative minefield. The pasture, it seems so green and lovely with blooms and strong growing trees.
Step awry and an explosion ensues. Too early, too late, not enough too much. The options are endless and unpredictable.
Then the honest fear to step surfaces, followed by love and hugs and feelings of foolishness for being afraid. Followed by a step and an explosion… just when my guard is down.
My family is distant and … elitist? Racist? I’m not sure. My enjoyment of their company has declined. It may have something to do with my minefield. Explosions. Random.
Societally. All so extreme. All so un-friendly. To each other. To the earth. I am a disconnect. The constructs confuse me with their purpose. I don’t understand why the constructs are not only tolerated, but embraced. The cars on our freeways are wearing deep. The ruts will soon drag holes through the aorta of the earth. I don’t want, I try not to add my own weight to the ruts.
My grass is green. Yours is fine. The race we’re all in is artificial. There is no winner. If you’re lucky, your body will feed green leaves and a beautiful flower.
And even so… I am to some extent.. a hypocrite. And it kills me every day. The constructs hold me like chains. I am either unable or unwilling to break free. I am not sure which it is.