Why I can’t hate her…but damn…sometimes it’s a close thing…

So this past weekend I was talking to my best friend about girls, moving on and our thoughts for my future.  And one of the questions he asked me was how often I thought about my ex (? whatever the hell she is…).  My somewhat flippant reply was never or not often and more often than not that’s probably true.  I can go days, occasionally weeks without thinking about her at all.  But not all the time and not the last couple days. 

My son was listening to another episode of the old radio show  “X Minus One” while I was working online and while I was browsing my myspace page he saw his “mom’s” profile pic, since I haven’t gotten around to removing her from my friends list.  As a result he’s currently crying himself to sleep after being hugged and snuggled, comforted and talked to for about the last twenty-thirty minutes.  He misses her.  He wishes she would come back.  He wants to go do all the things they used to do together…and the last time I told her this several months ago her reply was “Well, that’s great that he says that but I don’t believe it.  He’s just trying to get attention.  He doesn’t really want me around.” 

Try figuring out how to tell your child that the only real mother figure he’s ever had doesn’t want him.

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But if I give into the anger and hate stirring around the edge of my soul how quickly will it drown me and destroy everything I’ve tried to become and build in my life?  The lesson for me is to learn how to honestly experience my emotions and let go of the negative ones.  My son’s lesson is that there is a life after she leaves…he’s just got to figure out how to pick up the pieces.

Jason Watson Music w/Caleb Maupin

Radio Memory

“How strange is the lot of us mortals! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people — first of all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness is wholly dependent, and then for the many, unknown to us, to whose destinies we are bound by the ties of sympathy. A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving…”

                        — The World As I See It by Albert Einstien

 

This passage seemed especially apt today.  As I sit and listen to the rain falling lightly out my patio door and the chirping of the crickets, which almost overpower the music, I’m reminded of how powerful a circle love can create.  I have been confronted, with the fact that I am not alone in this.  Thank you.

David and I sat in front of the computer tonight.  He curled up on the floor with a blanket, a sleeping bag and a pillow and I sat in my office chair while we listened to old time radio stories.  Specifically X Minus 1.  It’s our second favorite choice after the Shadow but since there’s been some technical difficulties with the Shadow…

That’s one of my favorite memories from my own childhood.  Sitting in the car on summer nights, the sun’s echo lingering at the edges of the horizen.  Closing my eyes and imagining myself riding with the Lone Ranger, solving mysteries with Sherlock Holmes, laughing at Fibber McGee.  Then there were the times I curled up on my father’s lap and listened.  I always loved it when he came in from working in the yard.  Cut grass, pine and sweat mingled with the wisps of cologne that remained.  I always feel safe when I smell those scents.

That’s the feeling I want to create for David.  That’s home.

I hated moving from it.  I remember that that was one of those things I wasn’t going to do to my children.  I always hated moving.  Still do.  Always being the new kid.  I’m sure many, if not most people I know can relate to this.  Trying to find your niche.  I always wanted a home and was positive I was going to provide one for my children.  One that they could stay in and grow up in.  But restlessness has always been a part of me too.  I find it hard to stay staionary for long periods of time.  Granted…I’m getting older, for which I expect to get some jeers!  So it’s somewhat easier now.  Still…

Where is home for David I wonder?  New York with his bio mom?  Here with me?  With his grandparents?  Or none of the above? 

Where is home for me?

And I suppose more importantly…is it really necessary to know?  I know from where I came, the legacy that I am an inheiritor of. 

But now what?….