together in solitude

together in solitude

two days after christmas, we went to a cabin in Estes Park, to be alone to be together. my brothers and i, our aging parents. even though we come from different blood, i consider them my brothers. perhaps our genetic barrier is what forces us to make the extra effort to be closer to one another. honestly, i don’t know what i’d do without them

the YMCA encourages you to find your inner child. the boys went ice skating, roller skating, hiked a bit, smoked cigarette after cigarette and navigated their free time like two teenagers who’d cut class. enjoyment of life seemed a novelty to them. uncomfortable with time, time that was theirs, to do with it what they pleased. they made wooden airplanes, powered by twisted rubber bands and flew them in an open field in the middle of the rocky mountains, wearing black pea coats and thin socks.

it’s as if they didn’t belong. and that is ok.

adjusting to your old home, coming back from living far away, making the familiar the foreign and the foreign the familiar is one of the most alienating life experiences. i feel the same way, when returning to colorado, my home, the land of beards & beer & mountains. it’s what i dream of, and it’s what fuels my insomnia.

my mother made tea. my dad went fishing. we came together and played games and silently picked puzzle pieces together as the sky lost light and the moon crept over the tops of some jagged, rusting mountains in the distance.

the fire warmed my legs. i moved the grate as little sparks spat out, and ben yelled, concerned i didn’t know what i was doing. i knew. i always know. even if it’s to my detriment, i always know.

i took long walks with my mother. she’s aging, but simultaneously discovering the child she never had the time to be. her dedication to a new path, yoga, Ayurveda, conjures up a new light and energy in her i have never seen before – perhaps it’s because i was too young to care to look. now, i look for her spark, i cherish it. i beg her to cherish it herself. it’s far too easy to worry about a mother who worries too much. my mother worries too much. as a perfect daughter, i would give her nothing to worry about. i’m always striving to do just that.

our time at the cabin was tense, a bit, but one of the times i will cherish most. i will cherish learning how to be a big sister to my big brother. i will cherish learning to turn the car on an old relationship and embrace driving down a new road, in a new direction, creating new definitions of what it means to “love”. we are not what we were, and i must learn to love what we are and what we will be. i want my brother back. and once he finds himself and his power and happiness, i will once again hold his hand and walk down the black beaches of La Jolla and talk of tide pools, of sunshine, of things that matter and things that don’t.


i am a liar

i am a liar

we’re all liars, at some point. we lie to ourselves, our loved ones, our bosses, our g-d.

a drug counselor of mine, post “i totally got caught with weed in boarding school and now HAVE to, against my will, to some kind of counseling situation”, once told me: “NOT telling ’em is a lie”. The details of this matter not, but what he introduced me to was the lie of omission.

it’s a total bitch.

i am currently navigating a lie of omission. it concerns the bigger pictures of life, my career, my wants, my desires. it involves applying for a dream job, in a not-so-dreamy place, which, coincidentally, is where my current sweetheart resides.

what are my intentions here? every decision we make is driven by some underlying force. sometimes this force is plain as day, other times we are completely unaware of it’s dull, pulsing undercurrent as it guides us, like puppets on strings, to fulfill our destinies. sometimes, these strings feel restrictive. other times, insincere. all this jargon to ask: why the hell did i apply to this job?

there’s a few reasons:

1. i’m curious to see if i can even get it.
2. i want to be closer, physically, to my significant other, thus beginning the spiral into weekends of farmer’s markets, weddings, and shopping at home depot.
3. i want a change.
4. i’m grasping at nothing, i try because immobility will kill me.

the lie? i haven’t told my sweetie. why? because the gravity of even the small possibility of this job opportunity coming to fruition makes me doubt my intentions in the relationship. in the end? we want different things. i know that now. living closer together would solve nothing in the long term. for this, i feel guilty. we have recently rekindled the relationship – at MY bequest and MY efforts. can i be the one to end it again? why delay the inevitable? perhaps because it isn’t.

i lie to him, a lie of omission, i do not tell him my plans, i do not reveal what could be a solid lead to a fruitful partnership. this job offer leads us down a serious road, of lovely, beautiful things. but i just don’t know if those treasures are for me. perhaps these crimson rubies belong to someone else, and i’m just the girl for a faraway cache of sapphires.

for now, here’s a picture of my dog, as he stands proudly atop a mountain. he’s the man to whom i confidently divulge all my secrets.