Waiting

Saw Tita M again after a long time. I ask myself why I waited this long. I shouldn't have, but there you have it.

It was an emergency, and I thank all things holy that she was available.

Because I feel myself unraveling, slowly coming undone. And I'm grasping at straws -- anything, really -- just to keep afloat, trying my best to separate the fuzzy specters from what is real. Because, really, that's what it feels like right now.

I'm terrified. At myself. At how great this Sadness is this time. At how forcefully it is making its way back into my life. Everything scares me right now. Everything confuses me.

Except for a few things. Those things are clear.

Which is why I'm waiting. Which is why I shall be better. Which is why I will be happy again. I know it.

Because inasmuch as I know that the little things shouldn't be the source of my happiness, the little things make me want to be my own reason to be happy.

...

Things are about to take place and though I have decided to push through with them, the actual task of actually doing it looms heavily upon me. There are too many ways for this to fail and I am paralyzed with fear.

And pain. So, so, so much pain.

This is going to be so difficult. This is difficult.

All shall be well. This, too, shall pass. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Alleluia, alleluia. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

If Only

(Etched on one of trees in the garden: "The cure for anything is salt water...sea, sweat, tears.")

We're back at Dalipuga.

So, all throughout this "vacation," now's the only time I've actually had time by myself. It's just us girls here (Mama, Lucia, and I) and so that means Lucia and I have turned marsupial once more.

But I've had plenty of time to think. It seems like it's all I can do out here. And watch the waves.

The waves had been crazy the past few days. There was a storm of some sort in Manila this whole time. It's been nothing but blue beautiful skies here since Friday, but the waves had been crazy strong, the only indication that something was out of the ordinary. At this moment though, (it's 7ish in the morning), it's utterly calm. So calm, in fact, that Mama was able to bring Lucia to the sea to swim a bit. (Hence my sudden return into the mammal kingdom.)

The waves had died, but my thoughts are still crashing about, an indication that something is out of the ordinary. Far, far, far away.

If only things were different. I'm not even asking for things to be easier, just different. For there to be some sort of chance for something better. (Because we deserve it, damnit.) Because, now I know, and there is no way to un-know this.

If only I were free. If only there was a way, not even a way now, just...a way.

If only conclusions were decisions, too.

In a few hours I shall leave the waves, the skies, the sea. And when I return...more of this.

But at least now I know, and there is no way to un-know this.

Redefining Forever

(Translated from Italian by Ubaldo Stecconi, but this has a few minor edits by me...because I couldn't help it. Also, the story appears here without expressed permission, but I'm not doing anything here for a profit. So Internet gods, be kind!)

Coincidences
by Stefano Benni

There were a city, a white bridge, and a rainy evening in that order. From one end of the bridge, a man with an umbrella and a coat was approaching. From the other end, a woman with a coat and an umbrella. In the exact center of the bridge, there were two stone lions that had been looking at one another for one hundred and fifty years. The man and the woman stopped, they looked at one another, too. Then, the man spoke:

Man: "Kind lady, strangers though we are, may I take the liberty of addressing you to point out a strange coincidence? If I am not mistaken, this is the fifteenth time this month that we've met at this very spot."

Woman: "You are not mistaken, dear sir. This is the fifteenth time today."

Man: "Allow me also to point out that every time, we are each carrying a book by the same author."

Woman: "Yes, I noticed that: he is my favorite author. Yours, too, I presume."

Man: "That is so. Permit me to say that each time we meet, you blush violently. Coincidentally, the same happens to me."

Woman: "This also struck me as strange. I might add that you smile ever so slightly, and so do I."

Man: "It is truly incredible. Moreover, each time I feel as though my heart pounds harder."

Woman: "Quite unique, sir. I feel the same way, and my hands tremble."

Man: "A very extraordinary series of coincidences. I might add that, after encountering you, for a few hours, I feel a strange and pleasurable sensation..."

Woman: "Like a feeling of weightlessness? Like walking on clouds? Like seeing everything in more vivid colors?"

Man: "You have perfectly described how I feel. And in this state of mind, I begin to fantasize..."

Woman: "Another coincidence! I, too, dream that you are but a step away from me, right on this very spot of the bridge, and you take my hands in yours..."

Man: "Exactly. At that precise moment, a boat sounds its siren from the river, the one they call 'love boat.'"

Woman: "Your fantasy is the same as mine, it is incredible! In mine, after that rather melancholic sound, for some reason, I lay my head on your shoulder."

Man: "And I caress your hair. In doing so, I drop my umbrella. We stoop at the same time..."

Woman: "And finding our faces so close, we kiss long and passionately. A man on a bicycle passes us by and says, '...Lucky you, lucky you...'"

They fell silent. His eyes were shining, so were hers. The melancholy wail of an approaching boat's siren could be heard in the distance. Then he said:

Man: "I think, Miss, that such a remarkable series of coincidences cannot be by chance."

Woman: "I think so, too, sir."

Man: "What I mean is, we are not dealing with a detail, but with a long sequence of details. There can only be one reason for this."

Woman: "Yes, indeed. There can be no other."

"The reason is," the man said, with a sigh, "that there are bizarre sequences in life, mysterious harmonies, signs that only give a hint of their meaning, but for which we possess no key."

"That is absolutely true," sighed the lady, "it would take a medium, or a fortune-teller, or maybe an expert in some esoteric discipline to be able to explain the strange fateful events which echo daily in our lives."

Man: "In any case, what happened to us is truly unique."

Woman: "A series of remarkable coincidences, no one can deny it."

Man: "Perhaps science will be able to decipher all this one day. Meanwhile, I apologize for any inconvenience."

Woman: "It was no inconvenience. Rather, it was a pleasure."

"Good bye, kind woman."

"Good bye, dear man."

They walked briskly away, each one their separate ways.

---





Our understanding of happiness is that for it to be true, it has to be forever. If it ends, then it can't be true happiness.

The tragedy there isn't our misunderstanding of happiness (for truly, it must be forever to be true), but our misunderstanding of "forever."

Forever is a grain of sand. A renegade eyelash, resting on a cheekbone.

It is the time it takes for the harsh words to go to the heart and then to the eyes, to then form tears. For a strand of hair to separate itself from its sibling strands, to begin the inevitable descent to the ground (or someone else's shirt).

It is a child's laughter. A dog's howl. An overly excited, just-saw-her-friends-at-the-mall-oh-my-god-what-are-you-doing-here, 16 year old girl's shriek.

The color pink. The color red. Persimmon. Pewter. Mauve. Vermilion. Crimson. Ocher.

Our entire lives are made of many forevers, and if we don't see the happiness in all of them, then it's our own fault we are sad.

(Yes, it is my fault. But it's so hard to catch a forever these days. But then it comes, and oh, how it comes.)

We live for the coincidences (for the goosebumps that come with the realization of the existence of a coincidence), for how else will we know that we are still alive?

Because I'm Too Prudent...

...to write down what I actually want to say online. And so I will write down how I feel, in a roundabout way. Because this act of not speaking is actually speaking volumes (zero volume as it may be now), but not nearly as accurately as I want.

And how to remedy that? To speak tangentially (if not more accurately than I hope to be).

Yeah, whatever, I'm not making sense. I'm just going to slog my way through this Ick that is my fragile state of mind via Proust's questions again. (And, um, oh my goodness. I just went to that link and checked my old answers and...well...things are a little different now.)

..o..

The principal aspect of my personality: Personality? I dunno. Of my personhood, the fact that I am a mother.

The quality that I desire in a person: Intelligence + humor = Wit. (Please, Universe? Please?)

My main fault: Obstinate intelligence.

What could be my greatest misfortune: Sigh. Obstinate intelligence (that could probably be for naught save for a spell of engaging conversations over libations).

My dream of happiness: The pursuit thereof.

My present state of mind: The emotional equivalent of arms akimbo.

My greatest fear: That I am trapped and that the only solution would be to change my point of view, to keep looking at these walls as some kind of protection and not as a way to limit who I am...but I refuse to do so on principle.

Faults for which I have the most indulgence: Soiled nappies.

My greatest extravagance: Time for others versus time for myself.

My greatest achievement: This.




Ease up, Universe. I'm having a really tough time as it is.