The Beginning of the Road Home to Her

tn-7

I am playing an awful lot of Solitaire, Freecell to be exact.

I am playing word games and noticing my cat as he goes about his day

I am trying to understand the woman who was my mother.

She was a loner. She was alone.

I am not like my mother, I think to myself.

And then

I think again.

I isolate in times of sturggle. I hold my friends at bay

and crawl

inside.

My mothers life was built on Struggle.

Isolation was her  surviving.

I will continue to watch my cat with an eye toward love.

I will continue to watch my cat, trying to use my mothers eyes.

And I will continue to win at Freecell and word-games,

games I play alone,

in isolation.

We are not so different my mother and I.

Maybe this is the beginning of the road home to her.

Mary Oliver, my mothers favorite poet,  wrote:

“To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go. ”

I am trying to let go.

Trying…

Peace,

Jen

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

“In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver, from American Primitive. © Back Bay Books, 1983.

~ by Step On a Crack on March 6, 2013.

7 Responses to “The Beginning of the Road Home to Her”

  1. Once we are on the right road – every step takes us closer to “home” – I reckon.

    Hello Jen, we both dropped out of each other’s loop and today, I saw your post alert and told myself – I need to visit her. And I am glad.

    Peace, Eric

    Like

  2. Hey, Sweet Jen,
    I see my mom in me, too, and find it scary.
    In fact, I fight it.
    And I think it sad I have to fight parts of me “just because”.
    I need a better reason. you know?
    ❤ K

    Like

  3. Wow. This is powerful (and telling) … as if i didn’t know.

    Code, you know.

    I know the code.

    I use it too.

    When I feel strong, I am out there; when i need the most help, i lay back and hold onto, perhaps, nothing mortal,

    and there are not chemicals, or food for filling that space.

    Remember your tribe. I get you, and love you! Love, Mel xoox

    Like

  4. peace to you Jen. oodles of it.

    Like

  5. The truth lies lurking in places we least suspect. Thanks for sharing the wisdom learned in your struggles, Jen.

    Like

  6. Being aware that one is similar in some ways to your mother isn’t detrimental. It’s that same awareness that also helps you to be so different. Time alone can be a calming time for the brain. I also look in the mirror and at times as I glance away I resemble my mother, and that’s also frightening. In reality I’m blessed because my mother left this world when she was 56. I keep the positive memories alive, and laugh with my siblings at childhood memories.

    Take care and stay safe, Edie

    Like

  7. You are never alone. You may feel alone, but the presence of your loved one is nearby. You wanted your mother to change, but she chose not to. You changed, but your mother was comfortable with her situation. Change is hard, but it isn’t for everyone.

    The standards vary frequently, and from person-to=person. There are no guidelines of “how to act” in different situations. We need to accept and respect others decisions.

    Take care and stay safe, Edie

    Like

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