I don't know why I have to hang onto the people in my life by their hair, screaming like a madwoman--even if they appreciated it, which they don't, I sweat blood when I don't have to.
When I was younger, I was much more brave and selfish. But now I think I'm Mother Teresa. Ugh. Even in the temple, we sit on opposite sides from our ? and it's very clear that we travel our paths alone--individually.
At the same time, I'm lecturing JW about embracing helplessness and riding with the flow, man, I'm loading my 22 Magnum pistol to take out a few incompetent doctors, whom, I'm sure the world would be far better off without.
Can we help each other in our various pain? I've come to the conclusion that we can--but only by just being there. Jaren calls within seconds of my phone conversation with an idiot doctor (I'm really not being unkind--he is a true Idiot) and calms me down. JG drops into my office as I'm about to leave for the mountains with Beau, lets me complain, reminds me I'm strong; and yes I'm a little worried, but I'm hoping fishing and pine trees will do what we thought the medical profession could do. And why not? Mountain air has often restored my own sanity to at least a level that allows me to function.
But, as Didion says, "We deceive ourselves on all counts. It's always I." Who is this mountain trip really for?
I love my friends.
7 comments:
so fine to see you. you are obsidian tough. remember my trite remark.
oh, ps, regarding your vintage pic (the first one) in this thread: Jen wants her hair back.
I would kill to have those pants in your picture. Too vintage and cool.
How was the trip and Beau? I hope you are still in this wilderness mood in a few weeks, or I'm taking your canoe and going anyway.
whoa....and now JG and I are sending comment posts at the exact same moments. Weird.
That was a low blow, Joe! If you remember,and as Em should have pointed out, I was in costume that night for a murder mystery dinner. I believe that you, dear Joseph, were in a leather jacket and wig and Em, you were a cheerleader. I WILL find that picture and show the world that I was not the only one who looked ridiculous.
Onto more important matters, Sharon, this whole things with Beau sucks. Now that I am a mom (not that my parenting experiences even closely resemble what you are going through), I really can't imagine what how you are dealing with this or anything else that you deal with or have dealt with in your lifetime. You are so strong.
I was in the car going to craft store (I know, I can hear your snickers as I write this Em and Sharon) and Brown Eyed Girl came on and I started to sing it to Olivia. It was at that moment that I started thinking about you and Beau and how I am sure that when he was 17 months old you never thought that anything like this was ever going to happen to him and I got scared. There is so much uncertainty out there, but I guess all we can do is our best and hope it all works out. Look at Meg, right?
Anyway, I know that it is cheesy and stuff, but know that I love you and if anyone can get through this, it's you (even though I really don't think that it is fair that you have to).
Jen, no worries about the craft store--I've been cross-stitching all morning.
And I agree with Jen and Joe, Sharon. You're the toughest. Keep us updated.
I love this picture. Sharon, don't take this the wrong way: you are one sexy bitch.
JW, you just made me fall off my chair with laughter. Tell Charity she has a fine man, though only she-of-golden-heart could handle your sharp tongued wit.
Vin. picture? Even when I was young, I had to watch the rivers run.
JG, your triteness was much appreciated and, I think, hides a great heart (Whoops. Should I say that more softly? Snicker.)And don't forget you promised lunch some Friday this coming year.
Em. I need you to help me lift canoe, since vintage strong body is gone, for this part of eternity anyway. (Thank Heaven for the resurrection. Oh Great day.)
And, Sweet Sweet Jen, I love the image of you singing "Brown-Eyed Girl." Ha. Children? I have decided on steady attendance at the temple to keep placing them on the Alter. After all, they're not mine. Their true father (and mother) is a God. . . . Life works out. I don't know why, but He truly wants us back with Him.
And Em dressed as a cheerleader? I can barely hold back my disgust. Em, you're walking ten steps behind me from now on, so no one knows you're with me. I mean, really, have you no self-respect at all? I hope Jen digs up the pictures.
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