remember

of course i can remember the very first time i saw you; not too difficult there, eh? but besides you, there are two women that i can remember the very first time i saw them.

the first was SH, when i was 17. my 6th hour was over and i was sitting on a desk talking to the teacher. from the second she walked into the room she had my attention. short, blonde, petite, stylish, classy, with an easy laugh. a few years older than me, she was a former student of his too, and she had stopped by to say hi. then a few weeks later i was petting a cat that had wandered into my yard, and she strolled up to claim it. we talked awhile. so we were neighbors. she lived a couple of trailers down, and then later moved into the trailer right next to mine. during the summer, i would come home from work around ten o'clock and i'd stop by her trailer and we'd stay up talking til midnight. she always had ideas for fun stuff to do. we went to concerts at a small theatre near one of the universities, or to a laser light show at the planetarium. on a whim we went skinny dipping once at the sand-washing pond by the cement factory, which was a damn sight better than the leafy pool we swam in another time. we'd grill steaks, or go to movies, or just sit around and bs. every new year's eve she'd throw a party and that's where i would be. it was as one of those parties was winding down, and it was just she and i, that my thoughts began to drift and my gaze became far away. she noticed, and tendered the question "thinking about where you'd rather be?" i met her eyes briefly, but couldn't hold it. i looked down and replied "no, there's no place i'd rather be." and that was as close as i could come to telling her that i loved her. the years continued on, as did our story, but in the end we drifted apart.

the other was NT. i had stopped into the office between service calls to check messages. she came in to pay a bill, and i had to fight to keep from staring. she was pregnant with her first son at the time, but even so she was irresistably attractive. dark, tan and fit. through the years, i'd sometimes see her pushing a stroller as her older son walked ahead. i never saw her with her husband. always raising the boys. their little house was on a corner,and i would pass by it on my way home from work. the kitchen window faced the street, and sometimes as i drove by i would catch a glimpse of her doing dishes at the sink. she became friends with my wife, and we'd see her about once a week. they took the kids on trips to the zoo, in our car because hers was too small. when we bought a really crappy old used car, she remarked upbeat, "this looks like a zoo car to me!" then she got breast cancer, but caught it early. then it came back, and required a radical mastectomy. finally it got bad enough that they tried experimental stem cell treatments. somewhere along the way, my regard for her changed from a simple secret coveting-thy-neighbor's wife into a true concern for her as a human being. i began a ritual of saying a prayer for her every time i passed by her house. i prayed that she would be healed from the cancer, that she would make a full recovery, that she would live to finish raising her boys and see them marry. i prayed it every day on the way to work, and every night on the way back home. until one day a voice inside me said "Don't pray for that anymore." i was shocked at the contrariness of such a thought. it didn't occur to me to find out what i should pray for. i just stopped. a few months later she lost the battle and died. with her died a piece of my reason for existing. i never told her, or anyone else, that i ever carried a torch for her. i'm sure that i was never important to her, but she was surely important to me.

the words i never said have haunted me, so i hope you will forgive me for saying the words you didn't want to hear, or wanted to hear from someone else, not from me.

i remember the first time i saw you.
you are special to me.
you are important to me.
i love you.

the road

- forgotten how long since i last wrote you.
- don't check a hundred times a day for word from you.
- never feel like you're right beside me anymore.
- can go whole days and not miss you.
this is how i measure progress.

my life changed.
i changed.
because of you,
or the road travelled trying to reach you?
is there a difference?

still,
when a message came,
i hesitated, hoped it would be you.
so you win,
me too.

tale of two singers

here's the tale of two singers, J and K. actually two teenage schoolgirls who both have beautiful voices, at least one of whom aspires to become a singer. both are pretty, popular, and good students. J is petite and a little reserved, K is tall and confident. both went to state singing competition, J as part of a trio, K as a soloist. a 1-1/2 hour drive followed by twenty minutes standing in a stuffy hallway. then that tense few minutes in a performance room with a few onlookers holding their breath as the judge makes marks and jots notes on a crit sheet, while the singers sing, silently praying that they don't screw up. J's trio went first and sang All the Pretty Little Horses. the judge would listen, look down and make a note, look back up, again and again. all three sang well, but J's voice had that special quality that makes you crave to hear it some more. when they finished, the judged briefly thanked them and dismissed them, then returned his attention to finishing the critique. so back to the stuffy hallway to wait a few more minutes for K's turn, the very last performance of the day.

a few minutes before her time, K's judge came by and introduced himself to her, perhaps to put her at ease. he asked her if she was ready, and she responded with an 'i guess so', alluding to the fact that when they arrived there were not any practice rooms available, so none of them were ever able to warm up. she never said as much to the judge, but she would be performing cold; she would not be at her best. he told her that he would go on into the room and get set up, and she could come in and start as soon as she was ready. after a quick gut check, she said, 'okay, let's go.' the small group followed her in and found chairs. her teacher sat down at the piano to accompany her. K took her place beside the piano, facing the judge, and announced that she would be performing the Italian aria Amorosi Miei Giorni by Stephano Donaudy.

K's soprano often surprises people, because there's good, and then there's good. it must have surprised the judge too, because he looked up, laid the pencil down, and leaned back in his chair. he never looked down at the crit, he just watched her and listened, and appreciated her performance. there are scores given, but he had already given her the highest possible compliment. when she was done, after a moment he said, 'yours is the best voice i've heard all day, and it came right here at the end.' he talked to her some more, gave her some pointers, expressed hope that she had plans to use her talent, asked her a few questions.

then we left to go celebrate with a semi-expensive dinner. all the girls passed the time chatting and drawing on the paper table cloth. it was there in the restaurant, as we all crowded around the table, that i began to sense...i don't know, whatever you get when you feel sympathy, admiration and sadness, and a wish that somehow i could help. K was on the right, happy, confident, assured of a perfect score. J was on the left. counting her money, she had only 4 dollars. she declined offers to pay for her meal; instead she ordered just a Dr. Pepper. i knew that she wouldn't starve for missing one meal, but i also knew what it felt like to resist the kindness of strangers. i guess at that moment, i wished that i could have been more than a stranger. i felt sure that J will have better days, but on that day, i wished she could have had a father tell her that he was proud of her. but she didn't. he committed suicide three years ago. no matter how much she accomplishes in her life, she will never get to hear him say how proud he is of her. no matter how beautiful she is, her eyes will always have that sadness there that you can't quite recognize unless you know why it's there. i don't know if she will ever really heal, ever shake the effects of losing her father in such a tragic way. it will always be part of her. even on her really great days, when she gets to hear a judge say that her voice is the most beautiful he's heard all day, pain will still be part of her, and she will still never hear praise from the man that matters to her the most.

so that's the lesson for me to learn. i didn't know J's father, don't what it was about his life that made it unbearable to go on. all i know is, for better or for worse, J needed him, and now she must go on without him. for better or for worse, no matter how far i fall short of what i need to be, someone needs me, too. at some point, i have to stop tearing down and throwing away. i have to accept that what i have built may be crap, maybe be imperfect as all hell, but it's better than nothing, and it's a start, even if a slow one.

self-destruct

in 7...6...

remnant

i like surprises. the best gifts are the ones you get that you didn't even know you needed, or wanted. i was reminded of that as i was folding some rags in my garage. there in the basket was the pajamas top from a pair of pj's my wife had given me our first Christmas together. i never wore pj's, at least not that i could ever remember, so it never would have occurred to me to ask for a pair. yet there they were, not something i wanted to have, but something she wanted me to have. surprise. but the real surprise came when i found out that i really did like them. they were tan flannel with brown piping. soft, warm, comfy. perfect for sleeping, perfect for "i'm ready for coffee, but i'm not ready to be up yet". i wore them forever during the cold months. the elastic waist failed of course, and i resorted to safety pins to keep them up. somehow i managed to rip the shirt pocket, which is crazy because why would you ever need a pocket on your pajamas? but my wife sewed them up, not pretty, but functional. and i wore them some more. eventually, somewhere in the years, they were replaced, but no pajamas since have ever felt as good as that first pair.

as i stood there in my garage, holding what was now just a rag, i felt a twinge of... not so much sadness, more like sentiment. as i traced the haphazard stitching, i could imagine her holding the cloth, sewing, pulling the jigsaw sides back together, binding them up so that life could go on. at that moment, i appreciated her, and i thought she must have cared for me, at least at that moment as she mended she must have cared some.

repeat as necessary

i was in love once. i didn't treat her right, though. i was young and a fool, and flawed. but i know that i really loved her because i was happy for that year. happy to be with her, happy to think of her when we were apart, happy that such a perfect girl had chosen me. when she fell in love, it lit up her whole face, and there was no way she could contain it. she glowed with love. and it hurt because as i recognized the love on her face, i knew it was love for someone else, not me. after that came days when i could not even get up, couldn't move, couldn't think. when i finally did get up, i was in a fog, going through the motions but not really engaging. i tried a few times to tell you that i knew i had been a jerk, to tell you i was sorry, to tell you that my love was real. hoping i guess that some day, even if it was years later, that life would give me a break. put everything into a perspective that would allow me a second chance. but it never did. for years i would look forward to the "KCFF" as you used to call it, hoping i could see you, just for a moment, to know where life was taking you. i did see you a couple of times, then lost you. last year i caught a woman looking at me as if she knew me, but i couldn't be sure... over the years i lost my nerve, and finally gave up stopping by your parents' house. i know i owe them an apology, but it seems wrong and useless to open up old wounds now.

i've been saying "you", but i mean "her". i finally realized that you look like her. the freckles on the nose, the wide smile, the sandra bullock chin, and the eyes... of course you couldn't be her, it's impossible. maybe i tied you two together in my mind, hoping i could finally set things right with you where i failed to with her. stupid, i know. instead it's the same thing all over. shut me off like a switch, ignore and avoid me, and i never get to hear you say what i did that was wrong, why you hate me so. and you never have to endure hearing me say "whatever it is, i'm sorry. make me understand and i'll try to change it." you said once that i made you feel appreciated, but do you appreciate that i'm willing to do for you what i can't or won't do for anyone else, change? doesn't matter now, though, because you've gone on to the next thing. i was kidding myself to think you needed me, even for a while. for sure you don't need me now. maybe i just remind you of the bad time in your life that you want to forget.

anyway, i wanted to tell you that yesterday someone touched my sleeve. when i looked up it was a lady i've known a long time but only see occasionally. each time i saw her, she seemed to be getting more beautiful. as we talked she told me she was separated from her husband, which was a shock to me. i confessed to her that i have a few more weeks of counseling, then i have to decide, too. then we exchanged numbers, and she surprised me with a hug. so maybe she can be my next mistake, do you think? keep trying til i get it right? you and i both need something more than words on a screen from ten thousand miles away, ya? i lived the fantasy, held on to hope, tried to become the kind of man i would want you to have. but in the end, i'm the needy one. need to hear you say that it's not for nothing, that you still think of me. need to hear you say that even if you don't love me, you at least want me for your friend. 'always', remember? i'm trying to let you go...i am.

running

need to get away, find a new place. somewhere no one knows me, no one's been disappointed by me, no one's been hurt by me. i guess i don't love you anymore, because it feels like i don't love anyone now. i can't believe how much i have changed, how far i've fallen. i need to be alone. tired of being blamed me for life not being all they wanted it to be. i don't have that kind of power. anyone can tear down, but who can build up? who can give life, or love? who has the power to save it? i need to get away before i do any more damage. everything was a mistake. sorry won't cover it, i know, and i'm not sorry for what i did. i tried to do my best. i'm sorry it was so insufficient, so worthless, such a waste of time and energy, such an exercise in futility. who the hell was i to think that i had something to offer, to you or anyone else? so cocky, so arrogant, so stupid. all i had to offer was more misery. my life is not in my hands, but i swear to god i am not living. i am just waiting to die.

worst day

today was the worst day i can remember.
began throwing everything away.
no idea when i will stop.

flying

last night i dreamed i could fly. not like dreams before, when i could fly but was afraid...afraid of falling, plummeting, crashing back to earth. this time... this time i could just -- fly. i climbed, and dived, outstretched my arms and soared in the bright blue sky. as i looked down i could see the ocean and the sand, and the trees. that's where i found you, beside a tree. i came down and was happy with disbelief, that i found you in all the world. you turned and went into your house and i followed, and your mother was home. the three of us sat on stone steps beside a pool, i on your left and she on your right. then you and your mother both began to bathe from the pool, cupping the cool water in your hands and washing your shoulders, arms and breasts. though i desired to watch you, for the modesty of your mother i turned my face away and laid my head on my knees. as you went on bathing, your mother spoke to you and i listened. she reminded you of things you knew, that i was different, that if your father came home and found me there it would be bad for you, that it would be better if i went away quickly and never returned. you didn't answer, but i could tell that you felt it too. i sat there still, waiting for the next words, but none came. my gaze was fixed on the stone wall, like the wall between us that i could never break down. i didn't cry, but my hope died. i knew it was true, always knew...always...we both had used that word, and now i wonder what it means.