prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08
2002-03-16 - 1:39 p.m.
~this photo breaks my heart~
and this is why~
It is a picture taken last Fall, when I took the children that I nanny for, to an apple Orchard in Connecticut. We went there to find big plump pumpkins and to pick wonderful crisp, apples to drizzle with cinnamon and sugar and melted butter and bake into buttery pies, the aroma of our autumnal harvest pies wafting in the air, and causing us to peer in through the oven glass, telekinetically willing them to cook faster, so we can slice thickly into them, and devour our ooozing pastry, with big scoops of hagen das vanilla ice cream surrendering into melting pools of goodness.
and we lick the bowls, and the children's laughter fills the kitchen, and dustings of flour is all around the counters and on our baking faces, and I close my eyes for a minute, because I want to, I need to... remember this sound. I want to remember this, always. because. these are not my children, not born of my flesh, but surely born into my heart. I chase them upstairs, and they squeal at my game, I hide behind doors and jump out at them, causing them to scream in sheer delight, as I scoop them up and carry them, flailing into the bathroom, where I dip two ice cream smeared children into foamy baths, sudsing up messy faces, as we recount the details of our perfect fall day. We discuss our upcoming Halloween party, and they laugh at all my silly suggestions of what I should dress up as. Then, I rinse their hair, and watch the water magically washing away the sweet sins of our day, two shiny faces, and arms reaching up to me, smiles offered like new pennies, and I pluck two little daisy's out of the bathwater, and enfold them in cotton butterfly wings. Rubbing their small backs, and sprinting after their ghostly towel draped forms, helping them into soft flannel snuggle scented pajamas, and tucking them into crisp linen pastel beds, sweeping kisses across there sun speckled noses, sitting for a moment, beside each child, and whispering a story, checking the room, for monsters hiding in closets and under beds, handing them dueling flashlights, to play with, and keep them safe, turning out the lights, and telling them how very much I love them, and hearing there sleep laden " I love you's " and *not* closing the door, always leaving the door open, and tiptoeing down the hall, and downloading the pictures from my digital camera and looking at them, and feeling a stab in my heart, and I do not even know if I can explain fully why.
Because, they are so beautiful, because the day was perfect, because this is always how I pictured my life, but this is not really my life.They are walking away from me, off into the great distance of time, and into the future. Someday, this will be their inner child. Someday they will grow up and away from who they are into who they are becoming, like rings inside an oak tree. I wondered if they would ever remember this day, long after the pumpkins are gone, and the apple pies a fleeting memory, but what I really worry about, is, will they remember me?
It is a strange life to lead. I work incredibly long hours, and am educated, but made to feel like a moron, to a dismissive society that does not appreciate my profession. I am well paid, I make an exceptional salary, with stock options, and a trip anywhere in the world, every year as a gift for my birthday. I never intended to be a nanny, I graduated with a degree in English Literature and Art & Design, but I sort of fell into this when my beloved grandfather was ill and after I graduated from American International University in London , I moved to Florida, to be with him.
And I have been here,in Connecticut taking care of these children for over 5 years. It is a difficult situation, because my life has sort of fused with there's, and as much as I am a part of there lives, I also stand apart from them. They do not call me mommy. Even though I go to them, when they cry out in the middle of the night, and hold them and smooth their auburn hair, and rock them quietly back to sleep, and I am the one who takes them to the Pediatrician when there cough worries me and I help Lindsay with her homework, teaching her how to solve the equations herself, and drive her to every ballet class, I am still replaceable. I am just the nanny. Austin is almost 6. He has known me his entire life. I am his security blanket. and truth be known, he is mine. And in exchange for living in a beautiful mansion house, with my own wing, and not paying rent, or utilities and getting expensive gifts and stock and jewelry and glossy trips to exotic places. I have given them my heart and soul. and I do not how I am ever going to leave. and I do not know how I can possibly stay. because. I am so alone. here.
Noone else could understand. You have to live it, to know what I am talking about. I feel like the ghost of my own life. A widow to my dreams, mourning the life, I thought I was supposed to have. and my castle has a shark filled moat. and my castle has no prince. and my castle has me, spinning myself into the gilded corner. My castle has my heart. because, they sleep here. my heart sleeps here. how can I walk away and leave my heart behind? and that picture is my heart walking away from me.
always walking away from me
old starlight - new starbright
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