Skip to main content

Of Jessie Trees and Dreams


Have you ever come away from a situation and questioned what you're doing in life? Not in the negative way we're used to, where you lay out the list of comparisons and see nothing but failure. But questioning in a way that is actually helpful. Like asking yourself "Hey, you once had dreams right? What were they and what stopped you from going after them?" Or when you realize that the sounds of children running around and being silly was a different (and absolutely preferable) kind of loud compared to the tv blaring Hallmark movies and old westerns all day.

Last night, I spent the evening with people I'd never met in real life (though Twitter is another story entirely). We shared a meal around the table, laughed as the boys performed skits between slices of pizza, had my first experience with a Jessie tree, and heard myself saying "THIS (the family moments) is what I look forward to the most."

I drove home thinking about the different ways in which hope and change were coming to them this season: a new child for some, going home and toward a new adventure for another. And I thought about how I have lived, especially these last three years...isolated and either ignoring or denying the hopes I once had for my own life. I had almost forgotten how something like a dinner table was symbolic of home and family (things I've wanted, but never made room for). I forgot how to take a leap of faith and pursue a path with no clear road map. I forgot how to slow down and enjoy life as it was. I forget, time and again, to look beyond the doctor's appointments and to-do lists.

But last night, I remembered how it was to live among others, and with it, forgot why it was I wanted to hide away in the first place.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Summer of Poetry: Twitch

The house is never truly still. There is an almost endless punctuation of shrill beeps of mechanisms I've long resented, shoving aside peace and mind with their demands for attention. A disrespect for my time that mirrors their insensitivity toward the restlessness and frustration their interruptions leave in their wake. I just need time enough to finish one incomplete thought... Just one train of thought that isn't hijacked by a notification.
Post a Comment
Read more

The Stories We Tell

In a chat about DNA tests and family, I started thinking about what we know about those who've gone before us and how those tales affect us. For years, I didn't know much about my family. I knew that my parents weren't married, that I was given a name separate from theirs, that my grandmother was the first person to hold me, and a few scattered memories that remained confusing until I was an adult and able to ask questions. Later, there would be stories only told at funerals: The grandmother who chased her grown grandsons past the fire department, brandishing a bb gun; the estranged alcoholic who showed up as his ex's home after the bar closed, demanding to search the house while verbally berating the mother of his children; The cousin of a relative who was put on disability for being racist. However, the stories that took their toll on me were the ones from my time in the Midwest. Slow, quiet threads woven in the fabric of our day-to-day which ended the same every time
Post a Comment
Read more