Under A Changing Sky

Dark Moon Tree on Night Sky / Magic Fantasy Space

Image by epSos.de via Flickr

Manically I go through box after dusty box in my closet as if flames are licking at my fingers.

What was once mere clutter in my over-stuffed hideaway, needs to be given or thrown away. Now.

I look at these now disposable items with weary and tired eyes of dull green.

I have been awake since early morning;

It looks like I am abandoning my life; life as I know it now.

I am just changing it to focus more on me.

Is it because I feel I am being abandoned that I take things and stuff them into one of seven white trash bags?

Is anger really depression turned inward?

Those sentimental snuggles of the past, the hot tickles of laughter against my warm neck;

I feel nothing now.

I am being left, we are all moving on

and I question for the first time, where all my love and devotion, went.

My daughter is a dark mystery, my son, a stranger, separating.

Tonight I feel used and sorry for myself to be surrounded by silent, awkward strangers.

Sometimes I want to shout “who ARE you?” but I stay silent, trying to accept and acknowledge

the vagrant mysteries of life.

I can’t do more than that.

I want to get ahead of the start of the race, I am in position before they stand up.

Sweat dribbles down my old, soft pink T shirt,

my hair is in an angry ponytail pulled tight, strands of gray and white wiry hair are like lit candles in silent darkness.

I feel unhappy, I say I want more fun.

There are only so many times you can say that

before it because a slow, steep burn of a salty secret.

I already have plans for new skills and new habits and a location change in the future.

I was young once too, I think

but we are all old now.

I have already packed a box of mementos from my children’s childhood,

taken from my inner sanctum of sweet sentimentality.

I will hand them over to my children like an Olympic medalist running with the torch.

Here I sit, surrounded by notes and pens and drawing pads and old

photographs and letters that I have saved; now dissolving and crackling with a light touch.

It is time to let all these things go. It is time to move ahead and change.

Maybe I will keep a few sentimental things in a box for myself,  just a few small morsels of sacred sweetness.

There is a new box  for my deceased father’s old things that I cannot part with; I will put it in the corner of our musty basement

so I don’t trip over his memories several times, every single day.

His absence, like a gaping raw wound that never completely closes.

The stuffed animals that used to give me comfort, even as an adult, are now gone,

I am giving them away to children

who deserve to smother them with sloppy kisses and love.

They mean nothing to me anymore, I look at them and I don’t feel pleasure

but at least I don’t feel pain.

I’m finding it hard now to feel anything.

I could eat silky milk chocolate or dark chocolate with currants  if i wanted to

but I don’t think it will make me feel any better.

This is pain I need to feel and get through.

I am giving away many books, enough to fill a small bookstore.

Starting fresh without all these things I do not really need.

I have my photographs, my slow -motion technicolor memory.

I don’t need much else anymore

but I hope that deep scarlet arm of regret does not clench me and wake me up with stabs of pain

when the morning sun tuns alive, with color, again.

6 thoughts on “Under A Changing Sky

  1. Laurie,

    Oh my. I don’t know what to say. So sad, but so true. Children growing up is the pain each Mother feels…and it sucks big time.

    What a post. Beautiful.


  2. Having done the purge many times, I know that it’s not easy. Sometimes, it feels good to let go, to sweep away the deturius we collect. Other times , it’s bittersweet full of mourning and feelings of loss.
    There are things we all hold onto: some are material — a letter, a poem, a drawing — others are more (and the spelling is wrong) eferial (think phonetic): memories, kisses, laughter, even the tears.
    If you are feeling overwhelmed by memories, loss, alienation, then do the purge in stages. That way, you can gradually assess the meaning of each item to the future you. I have avoided the file drawers that contain my former lives; the unexpected endings and unfufilled dreams are still a bit raw.
    Good luck! You have described the feeling of letting go/purging the material as well as the emotional very well.
    You will have fun again in your new life: where there are tears, there also can be laughter.


  3. I am there, in the fiendish pain world you describe so elegantly. As mine left I too began sorting closets, giving away stuffed toys, books, clothing. Obtained rubbermaid containers to pack the few thing to save and the things they left behind until they find a roosting spot. The pain was/is still sometimes, intense. Oh how familiar the strangerness of my own children. The change, from mothering to me-ing, I feel it in your words, the agonizing heart, letting go of life as we knew it, stepping into the fearful present of loss and anguish, and acceptance and moving on. Beautiful post.


  4. Thelma, this is breakthrough post. The simple act of cleaning a closet helps you face your past and present. You realize how much you don’t need to hang on to and give away things you know will bring joy to a child. By clearing out the Cobbwebs of the past makes way for your future. The choice of what to fill it with is up to you. You deserve To fill it with Prada, Chanel, etc. Bottom line is you deserve to fill your life with joy.

    With love, lLouise


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