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
2002-11-07 - 12:40 p.m.
last weekend, I was driving home, to my house in Upstate New York from Connecticut. I have a tendancy to sometimes cry in the car, as Peth so aptly noticed one time, since I seem to write about it alot.
I am never sure if it is the fluctuation of my rampaging spinster hormone levels, or if it is the intensity of sitting in a small box, at high speeds, for 280 long winding miles, through sweeping vistas and scenic hills that causes me to become so weepy and reflective. Sometimes it is the damn songs on the radio, the lyrics sneaking into my murky subconscious and pirouetting through the front of my brain and painstakingly rattling me to my hollowed lonely core until I start to hyperventilate, suffocating with the pierced lonlieness of a life gone by.
and then comes the darkness. falling in layers, at first deceptively feather light, until I can not see past the one mocking thought that never ceases.
This time, I tried to silence it. I could hear it calling me from the recesses of my unforgiving psyche. I tried to cling to a new thought. Telling myself, that I just needed a light at the end of my tunnel. A beacon, to cling to, a lighthouse to my ship lost at sea.
The day was grey, and heavy with a wet pregnant chill. And then it started to snow.
I just drove faster. Trying to focus on the mileage couter, willing the numbers to move faster, threading the distance closer, wanting to be home. a place where I could be free to just ~be~ for 24 hours, before having to turn around and do everything in reverse. Watching the same trees and smooth black road and shiny billboards from the other side of now.
The numbers climbed higher, the speedometer hovered shakily between 83- 88 Mph. My thoughts looped manicly, the snow fell faster , the darkness grew thicker.
rounding the curves that led me through the hills, that led me past the sleepy little towns where people spend there entire lives from start to finish never for a moment questioning the in between.( why can't I be more like them?) Peeking into shadowboxed houses, visible from the roads, and wondering, who is in the small room,in the small house by the road, with the one lone light on? What stories could they tell, who is cooking dinner ? Do they ever cry in the car and drive too fast to get somewhere that they can only be for 24 hours? This is my life in reverse. This is my life in the past. over and over and over.
I need a white light. at the end. of my tunnel.
I need a white light. at the end of my tunnel.
and then I saw him.
eyes closed to the falling wet snow.
standing in a small aluminum domed weather shelter.
A stunning white horse.
just standing.
just trying to stay warm.
just trying to live.
eat. sleep. drink. seek shelter.
how vulnerable he seemed.
how simple and profound.
My heart ached in that moment for him.
and I wished that I had a camera.
I wanted to capture that moment.
hold on to it greedily.
so that I could remember.
in my overcaffeninated materialistic way.
the simpleness of life sometimes.
of our primalness and mortality.
of just trying to stay warm. on a cold wet day.
I closed my eyes too. and tried to take a picture.
and when i opened them again, and looked back
looked behind me. he was still there.
and i suddenly realised.
that I had found my white light. at the end of my tunnel.
the miles sped us far apart.
the road grew and twisted and disappeared us far away
but I have an angel white horse. On 90 West between exits 24-35.
and I can see him so beautifully, when I close my eyes.
clouding my black back to white.
beautiful white light at the end of my tunnel.
I felt your zen.
old starlight - new starbright
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