Morning in the high country
It's 5AM and I am going to go to the gym before driving the foreign exchange student to Laramie for his senior year. I am driven by one mantra, and one mantra only, if I forgive myself, I will be forgiven. I am not one for posting at the asscrack of dawn; it does not suit me or my disposition. Sometimes I don't even know why I still write things here, most of the people that read it I talk to anyways, I guess there are some that would rather stalk than give me a ring which is cool, however you keep up works for me.
I miss things right now. I sleep with my pillow as if I am cuddling, my arm closest to the mattress underneath me mimicking the position one is in when placed in the outside spoon position. I cuddle with my pillow to maintain a sense of those years of memory. Those dreams of waking up next to someone on my 65th birthday and still seeing a twinkle in her eye and the crows feet in the corner’s of her face as she smiles.
I miss my younger sister, who has moved off to return to college, and my younger brother slaying the Argentine women with his incredible looks, uncanny wit, and ability to sling around Spanish phrases like the best of them. The older brother has embarked on his second year of med school. Following in my parent’s footsteps, doing something that I have oft believed that I could have done had my heart been in it. My mother and baby sister have taken an impromptu trip to California for a long weekend with my mom’s twin sister, as well, they will be spending some time with the Fr/Uncle/Sr/S.J. that I was blessed to have spent my last semester with.
With my dad and sister off to Omaha, and the rest of the clan dispersed across the country I am home, with Thao, the older Vietnamese student, amiable yet awkward company.
It is times like this that I must reiterate that when I forgive myself, I will be forgiven by others. When I am open to others genuine forgiveness it will be dispensed, and only then will that happen. As for now, I must go, listen to the Fray, and Eric Clapton, only to run in place and lift light weights with the rest of the professional set this Sunday morning before driving across the Shirley Basin to the University.
Pax.
I miss things right now. I sleep with my pillow as if I am cuddling, my arm closest to the mattress underneath me mimicking the position one is in when placed in the outside spoon position. I cuddle with my pillow to maintain a sense of those years of memory. Those dreams of waking up next to someone on my 65th birthday and still seeing a twinkle in her eye and the crows feet in the corner’s of her face as she smiles.
I miss my younger sister, who has moved off to return to college, and my younger brother slaying the Argentine women with his incredible looks, uncanny wit, and ability to sling around Spanish phrases like the best of them. The older brother has embarked on his second year of med school. Following in my parent’s footsteps, doing something that I have oft believed that I could have done had my heart been in it. My mother and baby sister have taken an impromptu trip to California for a long weekend with my mom’s twin sister, as well, they will be spending some time with the Fr/Uncle/Sr/S.J. that I was blessed to have spent my last semester with.
With my dad and sister off to Omaha, and the rest of the clan dispersed across the country I am home, with Thao, the older Vietnamese student, amiable yet awkward company.
It is times like this that I must reiterate that when I forgive myself, I will be forgiven by others. When I am open to others genuine forgiveness it will be dispensed, and only then will that happen. As for now, I must go, listen to the Fray, and Eric Clapton, only to run in place and lift light weights with the rest of the professional set this Sunday morning before driving across the Shirley Basin to the University.
Pax.
posted by Godot at 5:12 AM
1 Comments:
ummmmm
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