I sometimes wonder if you're still here
Lurking among the archives
Looking for the me you remember.
When I was a gaping wound
And you were the gauze
Protecting me while still allowing me to breathe.
Our silence
Always said more than our words
In it, you taught me to think
And I taught you how to love, I think.
But now our stillness spans years
Weakening the words we never had to share
When you would know
Without me even saying
That it was never about someone else.
But somewhere else, instead.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
On Marriage
I'm not one to usually follow celebrity news, it always seemed like more of the same, money, wedding, divorce, money, alimony, children with strange names, annnnnd done.
But I'll admit that there were two marriages I thought seemed "pretty legit" based on my lack of inside knowledge and quick glances at the grocery checkout line. (Which is to say I knew absolutely nothing whatsoever.)
The marriage of Hedi Klum and Seal and the marriage of Heather and Jon Armstrong were the two forevers in my happily ever after.
If you don't know the latter, Heather Armstrong is only the world's best-known blogger and her separation was seen in the New York Times in spite of her living in Utah.
Having read Dooce.com for years, I was oddly shocked when I read the news of their separation, as if my closest friend had suddenly sprung this news on me after years of thinking she had "it all figured out." In addition to the shock, I felt a sadness deep enough to almost believe Heather and I were friends, in spite of my only two comments on her blog in 5 years of reading, that she should have called me actually entered my mind for a brief moment before I instead starred at the computer screen in disbelief. Hoping she was coping well, hoping her daughters were as spry and adorable as ever in spite of such an upheaval at home.
In terms of the Klum/Seal saga, the little I knew of their relationship involved her favorable quotes about him as a father and husband and knowledge of their annual parties to celebrate their wedding, along with vow renewals and the things "only happily married" people might take part in. They were the Hollywood couple that could prove the naysayers wrong, that love was possible in a world of glitz and glamour -- until suddenly they became fodder for the tabloids like nearly every other celebrity couple we've had the chance of not-really-getting-to-know.
But most surprising to me was that I felt these separations, more than I likely should. People get divorced or part ways all the time, and these aren't even people I know, realistically I shouldn't care or feel a thing.
It just seems like everything was so right, until it simply wasn't.
And maybe, as a married woman, it's that idea that scares me - that all we have can be gone so quickly, that spring vacations don't mean autumn anniversaries.
But I'll admit that there were two marriages I thought seemed "pretty legit" based on my lack of inside knowledge and quick glances at the grocery checkout line. (Which is to say I knew absolutely nothing whatsoever.)
The marriage of Hedi Klum and Seal and the marriage of Heather and Jon Armstrong were the two forevers in my happily ever after.
If you don't know the latter, Heather Armstrong is only the world's best-known blogger and her separation was seen in the New York Times in spite of her living in Utah.
Having read Dooce.com for years, I was oddly shocked when I read the news of their separation, as if my closest friend had suddenly sprung this news on me after years of thinking she had "it all figured out." In addition to the shock, I felt a sadness deep enough to almost believe Heather and I were friends, in spite of my only two comments on her blog in 5 years of reading, that she should have called me actually entered my mind for a brief moment before I instead starred at the computer screen in disbelief. Hoping she was coping well, hoping her daughters were as spry and adorable as ever in spite of such an upheaval at home.
In terms of the Klum/Seal saga, the little I knew of their relationship involved her favorable quotes about him as a father and husband and knowledge of their annual parties to celebrate their wedding, along with vow renewals and the things "only happily married" people might take part in. They were the Hollywood couple that could prove the naysayers wrong, that love was possible in a world of glitz and glamour -- until suddenly they became fodder for the tabloids like nearly every other celebrity couple we've had the chance of not-really-getting-to-know.
But most surprising to me was that I felt these separations, more than I likely should. People get divorced or part ways all the time, and these aren't even people I know, realistically I shouldn't care or feel a thing.
It just seems like everything was so right, until it simply wasn't.
And maybe, as a married woman, it's that idea that scares me - that all we have can be gone so quickly, that spring vacations don't mean autumn anniversaries.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Everything is copy
The dental assistant ventured into the waiting room.
"Chrissie?" she called from across the way, "Chrissie?"
"Right here" I replied as I walked up, following her into the examination room.
It seemed she wanted to make conversation for our 11-step journey and I figured it couldn't hurt anymore than the impending dental work.
"Did I have that right? You go by 'Chrissie'?"
"Yes, always have, never Christina."
"Ah, okay. When I read the name, I was expecting to see a child."
"Nope, umm... just me. It's my name."
"Yeah, obviously, you're not a child... so I was just confused at first."
"No problem, it's my name."
"Okay good, because, when I said it I didn't want to offend you or anything."
Sure lady. No offense taken. I'm not offended that you think my name is an insult, at all.
After all, I'm obviously a grown up. I can take it.
"Chrissie?" she called from across the way, "Chrissie?"
"Right here" I replied as I walked up, following her into the examination room.
It seemed she wanted to make conversation for our 11-step journey and I figured it couldn't hurt anymore than the impending dental work.
"Did I have that right? You go by 'Chrissie'?"
"Yes, always have, never Christina."
"Ah, okay. When I read the name, I was expecting to see a child."
"Nope, umm... just me. It's my name."
"Yeah, obviously, you're not a child... so I was just confused at first."
"No problem, it's my name."
"Okay good, because, when I said it I didn't want to offend you or anything."
Sure lady. No offense taken. I'm not offended that you think my name is an insult, at all.
After all, I'm obviously a grown up. I can take it.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Vacation's promise
I didn't miss "home." Not at all.
The things I would want, had I decided to stay could have been packed in one box, the rest of it sold. I would have used the cash earned to pay for a place to stay, leaving behind a house with a mortgage in the town we could afford rather than the town we wanted to live in, exchanging it for a small apartment where we could eat pasta while sitting on pillows near the coffee table, drinking wine from mason jars because it was too expensive to ship the ones we'd leave behind.
We could start over, turning dreams into reality and then creating new dreams in their wake, reinventing ourselves, reevaluating our former selves, saying goodbye as eagerly as we would greet new friends.
I'd become less connected to those not around me and more connected to those I can see, touch, hear, feel.
I would make time for the sun everyday. Yoga would be the thing I "do" rather than the thing I "did" before. I would acknowledge that work was something that allowed me to have certain things, but it would not define me or my goals.
Covered in new freckles unearthed by a sun strong enough to fill life's shadows, I longed to stay.
But I was afraid to tell him how I felt as we left our temporary paradise, that I loved our former life until I saw what we could be in a new one, a life of warm breezes and sunshine, a life where the tiny lines on his furrowed brow disappeared and we laughed more. I was afraid he'd wonder why he married me, why we had bought a house here, why we had begun to sink our roots into ground I longed to leave.
And yet, instead of harboring my secret and accepting reality when we were back, he looked to me, brow furrowed and said, "I know exactly what you mean."
The things I would want, had I decided to stay could have been packed in one box, the rest of it sold. I would have used the cash earned to pay for a place to stay, leaving behind a house with a mortgage in the town we could afford rather than the town we wanted to live in, exchanging it for a small apartment where we could eat pasta while sitting on pillows near the coffee table, drinking wine from mason jars because it was too expensive to ship the ones we'd leave behind.
We could start over, turning dreams into reality and then creating new dreams in their wake, reinventing ourselves, reevaluating our former selves, saying goodbye as eagerly as we would greet new friends.
I'd become less connected to those not around me and more connected to those I can see, touch, hear, feel.
I would make time for the sun everyday. Yoga would be the thing I "do" rather than the thing I "did" before. I would acknowledge that work was something that allowed me to have certain things, but it would not define me or my goals.
Covered in new freckles unearthed by a sun strong enough to fill life's shadows, I longed to stay.
But I was afraid to tell him how I felt as we left our temporary paradise, that I loved our former life until I saw what we could be in a new one, a life of warm breezes and sunshine, a life where the tiny lines on his furrowed brow disappeared and we laughed more. I was afraid he'd wonder why he married me, why we had bought a house here, why we had begun to sink our roots into ground I longed to leave.
And yet, instead of harboring my secret and accepting reality when we were back, he looked to me, brow furrowed and said, "I know exactly what you mean."
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Your so-called life
Social networking is great for a lot of things, catching up with old friends, cyber-stalking your ex, or keeping family/friends informed of big life changes or good times.
But what I don't understand are the frequent updates that fall somewhere outside the lines of information and well within the boundaries of bragging.
You see... I think it's great that you love your husband "so so much" and I'm sure he thinks so too.
But well... I don't need to know each and every time he kisses you goodbye or brings you to a restaurant. Its the virtual version of PDAs.
If you consider your uncle Randy reading about how romantic Mr. Right is - does it not make you feel somewhat strange? Is it all that unlike kissing in the movie theater (with tongue) before the lights go down?
And next comes the question, what are you trying to prove to all your "friends," that your relationship is better than theirs? That you're oh-so-happy while on your dinner date that you're updating Facebook with mobile shots of your entree?
I don't know, but the last time I had a great meal with my man, I was too busy chatting, laughing, and old-person flirting to whip out my cell and update my status.
Sure, if everyone dredged up my updates, I'm sure there would be a brag or two, a senseless bit of self promotion, but at the end of the day, you don't know the minute to minute that my life, or my love brought to the table.
And when I know the ins and outs of your relationship, some years since I've seen you in real life, I can't help but wonder if its all a facade... Where you project the perfect relationship in an attempt to validate your current situation. One where the best things about dinner aren't the conversation or the company, but the price of the entree instead.
But what I don't understand are the frequent updates that fall somewhere outside the lines of information and well within the boundaries of bragging.
You see... I think it's great that you love your husband "so so much" and I'm sure he thinks so too.
But well... I don't need to know each and every time he kisses you goodbye or brings you to a restaurant. Its the virtual version of PDAs.
If you consider your uncle Randy reading about how romantic Mr. Right is - does it not make you feel somewhat strange? Is it all that unlike kissing in the movie theater (with tongue) before the lights go down?
And next comes the question, what are you trying to prove to all your "friends," that your relationship is better than theirs? That you're oh-so-happy while on your dinner date that you're updating Facebook with mobile shots of your entree?
I don't know, but the last time I had a great meal with my man, I was too busy chatting, laughing, and old-person flirting to whip out my cell and update my status.
Sure, if everyone dredged up my updates, I'm sure there would be a brag or two, a senseless bit of self promotion, but at the end of the day, you don't know the minute to minute that my life, or my love brought to the table.
And when I know the ins and outs of your relationship, some years since I've seen you in real life, I can't help but wonder if its all a facade... Where you project the perfect relationship in an attempt to validate your current situation. One where the best things about dinner aren't the conversation or the company, but the price of the entree instead.
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