The Dance

Step, step, step. step to the rhythm in the darkened room; barely enough light to see your soul, and yet you dance - shaking your head from side to side.

The smell is clean and you are electric on the aluminum dance floor - moving and flying like a bird with your arms swaying freely in the air. Eyes closed~~resigning to the music. You listen to the song of the dark voice and thesteel drums; this is truth and all are watching.

Up on stage you stand in front. Your head tilts up and your eyes open, just to look for your partner. He is somewhere out there in the sweaty, bobbing mass of flesh. You find him and smile; close your eyes and continue in your meditatively euphoric dance. You are on a hypnotic plane with no desire for reality. You bump into someone or mistakenly cross a path and a simple wave of the arm or the nod of head excuses the blunder - the music builds and your body responds.

transition

Another song pulsates through the speakers. You pound your feet harder and your arms spread wider. Your knees bend, your back curves to each deafening beat.
Front 242 brings me back to Club Post Nuclear, a dance club in Laguna Beach. 20 years later, I look back with a desirous yearning in my growing years. It is 10:25 pm and I am yawning.

3:52 pm – time alone = 1 hour. Start timing……NOW!

Sitting at my coffee shop and wondering when the aspiration of trends and fashion transpires to sensible khakis up to my belly.

Age and time and understanding. Three mediums sustaining their polished and poised play with the other; balancing, harmonizing and complimenting.

I can’t tell what age I am. My current disposition defies definition.

A lanky woman flouts about with dazzling orange pants. She walks the path and as she saunters by, she tips her woven sun hat with her walking stick. Her age dares her. She tilts her head back in laughter as she continues her stroll with friends.

Sitting to my left, an aged couple talk – each contributing 2 to 3 words of thoughts to sentences. There isn’t much conversation needed when you are that connected. The little grand children toddle up to greet grandpa. He cautiously makes his way out of the chair, adjusts his hat and twists his shorts in place. His son now takes the drink orders while ice cream drips down the small arm of the 4 year old.

Age….time….understanding.

The four year old wiggles the metal table and taps swiftly against it. The son nervously tells his daughter to tap quietly while the grandmother encourages the enticing muse.

When time presents itself and looks down at me with expectation; how will I respond?

I continue my revolution around the sun and with each marked passing, my body and soul progressively disengage from the other; leaving me with grappling questions of How, When, and Why. How did I get this old? When did my body begin to ache? Why do I not look as young as I feel?

It is hard to eaves drop when the zoom of traffic continues.

So, with certainty, I spin around the sun and as gravity continues to pull; my infant son contradicts. His energy forces me to run up the down escalator and my three older children encourage me in my stable path. I am aging through my time and trying to understand.

My reality is here. My infant is home asleep, the older children are entertaining grandpa and with constant appreciation; I remain, constant in my rotation.

4:52pm – time alone = 1 hour. Stop timing……NOW!

sidney

Too Much Noise to be Quiet

I know the title doesn't make any sense.

I sit on my bed, legs crossed, laptop upon them. TV is on, but on mute. I am quickly catching up on the news as I listen to Sidney cry it out in the adjacent room. Gary Lamb plays his piano lullaby and kids are literally running around the house, trying out new squirt guns.

I can not think! It is horrible.

and the crying continues.....

3:37 in the afternoon....

Is failing okay

This morning, John, Perry and I went to West Jr. High to meet with a school counselor. The standard questions were asked and routine answers were given; along with poster board tour of school. My oldest son has expressed interest in branching out of the small homeschool circuit; and it is small - unfortunately.

As I have put my 'best foot' forward, i have back stepped too. This circuitous dance of days has left my son wanting more than I can give. He has grown tiresome of his two younger siblings day in and day out (for some reason, there has been little to no interaction this year with other homeschooled kids. People kept to themselves and play dates have been close to non-existent). My children thrive on peer relations and there have been too many times that the three of them pined for the 3:45 hour when the school bus came home and they could join their friends in neighborhood fodder.

We are fortunate enough to have a large population of kids in this neighborhood. Most have grown up together from toddler hood forward. Now the separation of lives and personalities is making growing harder.

So, have I failed my oldest son? Like the Giving Tree, i have given what i can for what he has asked and now all i can offer is my quiet arms, my listening ear and my infinite support. He is branching out in all aspects and academically, I can not offer him the variety of woodworking shop, technology class, world language, and science....i have researched this topic exclusively and there is nothing that fits my philosophy and i don't agree that science is sitting and reading one chapter after the next and taking a test at the end of the day. It is experimental and transitional and a 'kitchen kit' won't do justice.

I feel i have let him down - in a gentle fall, he leaves me and walks in the opposite direction. he is growing - mind, body and soul.

we will see how the days unfold and which decisions are made.

my eyes search the room as if looking for answers and piece of mind, but i am void of both. at the moment, i am captivated my him and what is best. i do not want to fail him again. He possess a quiet and intimidating soul and he leaves me with more concern than grounding.

my insides are beginning to crack with anxiousness.

Me.....the Mom

This afternoon, in a quick email to my husband, i declare my intentions of escape. Lingering about in the evening hours, no attachment to plans or minutes. My insides smiled with anticipated awareness.

Preparing a meal with brothers chasing the other around table and infant in arms, sounding off in vocal forte, my precious ambition wanes. My yawns trickle in as the sounds of my offspring resound.

Dinner time takes hold and the chatter of each participant blindly continues as I fade. A shower excuses my presence. I take off one nursing tank top to only replace it with the next.

My aspiration to leave is replaced by a desire to be curled up in bed.

I shall be awakened from the depths of my slumber by the longing cry of my 2 month old son. We will rock in the dark of night. We will rock in the silence of night. We will rock in the tranquility of night.

My head tilts back into the pillow. The heaviness of it's weight dictates a near ending of to days passage. It is me, the mom.

This is all I've got at the moment.

No Complaint

Nursing a headache, I sit upon the bed. Brownies in the oven; medicinal purposes only. TV is ahead of me and on - but muted. Baby asleep beside me and the father reads aloud to his children in the adjacent room. Sporadic laughter is heard. The washing machine beeps; signaling it's final cycle and dishes sit submerged under soapy-murky waters.

I am nursing a headache, a cough and a lack of motivation. I realize a regularity and dullness to this life. There is no complaint.

Just hours ago, i sat in a school parking lot. Minivan window down, MPR on the radio and Lucy bent in 'ready position' on the field at baseball practice. Nursing my son in the front seat, talking to husband on cell about dinner plans, I sense a mundane and commonplace reality. There is no complaint.

On this Wednesday evening, I am not taking advantage of time. I am peeking out my window as the darkness of the night covers my weedy garden.

At times, there are intense bellows and roars within that beckon accomplishment and excitement. Tonight, I wallow in their absence. There is no complaint.

to karen

He takes the delicate bowl of her corollas in his hands, inhales them, and does not damage her.
Remember the daisy? This one, you daisy, high on your stem, playing Queen of the Mountain;

Only it's a bit of rock holding you up, shading your roots,
but to you, this is MOUNTAIN

You reach up and proud~ proud to be flower with no flowers around - for at least fifteen feet
(in the daisy world, this is far, far away~ leagues, even)

Without daisies, it is lonely
when the others nod together in greeting, or agreement

Raindrops tossed down, hit and slide over you

Large creatures try to crush the sweet juice from you

Flying things land on you
wings tips to taste you

Tree branches fall, and the hot broad sun pummels you

But, there you stand, open to the sky

Days eye, days eye, though you grow in our path
no one stops for you

Remembering you, I attempt to plant myself on the front concrete steps

Trying on lavender and yellow
raising my arms and spreading fingers to the sky

Tonight, I kissed a daisy~ the daisy
kissed me back, i think

her sourly tender, feathery petals
and tiny buds of powder moved
against my lips

I cradle her into the bowl of my fingers
and
brushing gently,
do not damage her.