Saturday, December 6, 2008

Saving up

I have two favorite bloggers; one who writes on most weekdays, and the other who writes on days ending in 'every so often'. I adore them both for different reasons.

There was a time in my life when I wasn't consumed by knitting and spinning, but by reading. I spent quite a bit of my time alone, and that is how I chose to use my evenings and weekends. Overall I'd say I am quite well read (or.. at least I was; now I am quite well knitted). In my history as a reader, only one author ever wrote what I considered to be the perfect sentence. It was Truman Capote, and he described someone in a way that left a taste in my mouth; I purely and completely understood the character.

Sometimes The Enchanting Juno makes me feel the same way.

Backround information on this moment in time:

Currently girls aged 14, 13 and 12 live in our house. Enough said.
I have been sick since September, and only just realized I'm having a flareup.
I'm about to lose a job I have loved.
Another Christmas is around the corner, and my son, the angel, persists in not being tangible. His death has had me in a straight jacket for six years now (God forbid I ever get out of it, because uncontained I believe I could scream buildings into rubble).
I was in 80's recession, and the very word strikes fear into my heart.
Canadian politics.

Every Christmas, and every August I work up a head of steam while I try different ways to control my feelings. Something always comes along that triggers a release, and I re-discover the truth of being the mother of a dead child. The pain doesn't go away. Cramming it down, trying to ignore or reform it doesn't work; it will find it's way to the surface somehow. Twice each year the top blows off, and then I feel somewhat better and can buck the hell up....

This was my Christmas vent button. It was firmly pressed.

And this is a gem... It put me so firmly and completely in her moment that the red drained from the back of my eyes... became lavender. Make sense? I saw she had posted and I actually saved it up for 1/2 a day before I read it. I picked the perfect time, and she did not disappoint.

Perhaps now I can rest.


Anonymous said...

I miss you... seems like we are at the same level of yuck right now. Remember, peach in, green out. Breathe. I will stop washing so much, you will stop worrying so much. We will make it through.

Does it ever seem like, as an adult, it's Xmas all the time? Whew.



Anonymous said...

Christmas is a difficult time for so many reasons. My Mom use to have a room in our house that she called "the crying room". Every Christmas, someone was in that room sobbing their heart out. Wish I could give you a big hug right now.

Shell said...

My heart bleeds for you and the loss of your son. I had a good cry over missing my Baby Blue Bird today. It has been almost a year since her passing and I can still feel the hole in my life her passing has left, and I am not the same person I was this time last year. I feel I am less. I am faded. And everyday without her feels like an open wound that will never heal. I know I should feel better with time, but how much time will need to pass to feel whole again. It has been a year and I feel no closer to healing and no closer to whole. She was my "child" and I will always miss the amazing and incredible creature that stepped into my life just over 7 1/2 years ago. Where was all the life she still had in front of her? Why do I feel so cheated by loosing her so young? I want that time back damn it! I want her to come back and swing on my braid, to tell me off, to chew on things that are not for her to chew. I want it back all the good and all the bad. I want to stop missing her so much; that the ache goes away.


Unknown said...

I'm sorry, dear readers. "'nuf said" still doesn't say it. If you haven't lived three teenage girls in your home, then you don't know how much they can make you want to hit something. Any single one of them can do that. When they "work together," (which they never really intend to do, of course) well, then its just a magic of converging hormonal, evil wickedness. And it hurts. Everyone. Its bad like you can't imagine. (I seriously wouldn't recommend it.) Avoid it if you can - find a quiet place - take up knitting.

Annie said...


there's not one evil or wicked person living in our house, and that's a fact. we have one trying hard today, but yesterday wasn't quite as successful. one being 12. one who thinks she's 30.

estrogen dripping down the walls.

the quiet place and the knitting sound great. and meds. absolutely necessary some days.

i blew my gasket, and now i'm going to buck up. give more than i take. be grateful. turn 'buts' into 'good buts'. breathe.

Bellflower said...

Ms. Bananie - you can come over and knit if you want...I won't even bug you or nothin'. I will bring unto you more gingerbread if it will help. Or any other variety of grain product.

Anonymous said...


HC remains with many of us.