Safety

Safety such a reassuring word. Visions of warm blankets and relaxing places, clearly seen in my mind’s eye. Tears squeezed out of my physical eyes, which I kept shut. I didn’t want to face what I would see.

The warm room with the brightly lit window, the flowers outside was lovely . They were not the familiar oaks or the swimming pool with the tiki lamps. This room was NOT  the green and turquoise couch with the orange and green block rug taking up half of the wood paneled den my home.  That Den was a large warm and cozy place where the family gathered in.  It had wide,tall  bookshelves along 2 walls and a large, panoramic window.

The round maple coffee table that was so large around the entire family could eat fondue at it.  The legs of the table were barely off the floor.  So , you could eat comfortably,i f you could fold your legs into a pretzel and fit underneath.   I never had trouble, but my long legged siblings always grumbled when dinner was served, there.  I never had any trouble fitting in.  My parents didn’t try but sat sideways like bedouins in the desert.   It was exotic.  I put my hands to my face and slid sideways onto the soft, squishy cushions.  I hunched my shoulders and hid in the nobby thick corner. I missed those dinners and the messy, cheesy, chocolatey  laughter- filled fun.  In my mind’s eye, I could see my brother and sister  holding up the skewer to see who could make the longest cheese string and make it in their mouths .  Mom would be grinning , with that eyebrow tilted up.  Dad would be constructing a symphony of ingredients on his skewer and twirling it in the pot . We would all laughed when one of the morsels fell in the pot and Dad kissed Mom ,because that was the Swiss custom.  He would then treat us all to the stories of foreign customs and tales of  other places.

Now my siblings would be clogging up the phones, trying to call to get info.  They would be grumbling again , wondering what I had done this time, again.  My mother cleaning everything that wasn’t moving.  She would be trying not to let anyone see that she was tearing up.   She was such a worrywart, now I was the one getting worried.  Dad would be out scouring the surroundings and moving quicker to more worried he became. He would be more  calm and analytical the more worried he got.  Marie had said that she was sending someone to go and tell my family that I was coming home soon.

Oh, there would be questions and  answers that I didn’t have and the answers I did have wouldn’t pass the Scientific inquiry standards. My mother would be angry and instill large measures of guilt. She was the expert at guilt ! My Dad would be tearing up and angry at all the fear and worry that everyone had.  I feel so guilty ! I shrank when I thought of the lecture from my Dad.   I sank into the back cushions. Oh brother,  I was gong to be lectured to and complain about for hours about how could I be so irresponsible. Didn’t I know that they had more important matters than to keep track of me.  When was I going to ever be responsible ??   I was so insecure and wondered what was I so insecure about:? My  surroundings, confusion about rules and my standing in this place.? I was not threatened or made to feel unwanted.  How funny my heart was? I had been trying to do other things  that was responsible and independent, separate from my parents.

Now? Knowing the people around you, knowing the rules that everyone lived by, and did them ,was that safety?   I pressed my shoulders and head tighter into the pillows. Oh God, I want to be quiet and comforted.  Safe?

March for Our Lives

March for Our Lives is about fear and grief but also about frustration and determination. There is a way of living in many schools of being insecure and on edge. Trying to learn becomes fragmented, lessons are presented and effort by all is given. However,the brain also reacts to every unknown sound,every shadow and every discord in the close environment . Both students, teachers alike have their internal antennas tuned to the Emergency Broadcast system in their nervous system. When I was younger, we all knew that if the EBS siren went off then followed by a stern announcement , there was 3-7 minutes before the Soviet missiles were to strike. Now, the students do not have an EBS (Civil Defense) siren and in 3-7 minutes, 17 of their friends or teachers could be dead and many more could be injured. There is no warning and no chance to even draw a defensive tool or weapon. The news will report the details of the “shooting”. Yet again, the faceless people(and creatures) will be added to another news archive and history will document another societal crime. The faceless people momentarily noted and added to the archives. The easily swapped photos lead to a careless notice which has been getting more and more blurred in the attempt to bring attention to another event in a hurt, bruised and numb community. There are times where Fear and Frustrations will have a downhill impetus to reach a pitching point . At that point, events morphed and historical reality shifts and we are left with parts in which to do something .

Out of Confusion

Out of Confusion, interesting conversations can happen, just listen.

I rolled over and after a few moments decided to get up and face the music. Otherwise my mother or my sister will be barging in. I have my own place, but my mother insisted on having a key to my place, in case I can’t answer the door or reach the phone.  It was a sound, rational reason.  Reasonings my mother has used to achieve  her accomplishments.  Practical, realistic talents to look at places, things and people, and use her intelligent assessments to get things done(especially when she knows the way  it should be done).  She was the Matriarch of the family,even though she wasn’t the oldest. Her mother said and every one knew who held the  true power in the family.  I hoped I wasn’t in too much trouble, running off from setting up the party! What possess me?  Why would I decide to go off and look for Olympia, IN THE FOREST?  The party was going on in just a couple of hours. She would have wandered back.  Members of her soccer team  were coming to the party, she had to meet them.

I drew in a deep breath, everyone was going to be furious. I had been irresponsible, undependable,  unreliable, lazy.  Why had I taken off ? I still had to take the centerpieces to the tables and find something to weigh the napkins down.  I shook my head.  ow! OW! that hurt!  A hangover?  I don’t remember drinking anything.  What was going on?  Hell, I don’t remember going into Olympia’s house. I must be in her guest room . We don’t have a room like this in Mom’s house or mine.  I blinked and focused my eyes, the pain had dulled.

There were long, lacy shears at the window. The sky was paler than earlier. I haven’t watched the noon weather. Was there a storm coming in!?  Oh brother, where were we going to put everyone!?   There was a painting on the wall of a meadow and sunflowers along a wooden fence, it could have been anywhere in the South.  I looked around expecting to see pictures of Magnolias and cotton fields, but there weren’t any pictures.  The walls were covered in a pale pink wallpaper with tiny rosebuds painted on the crossings of a printed lace lattice. The room reminded me of my grandmother’s formal room. My grandmothers loved antiques, and going “junking”. They  loved their junk and would plainly state to any of us in the family who would roll our eyes at their purchases.  I was cold. I  had heard of people who made their house frigid with the air conditioning, but still come on.  I heard sounds but I couldn’t make it out.  I pulled on my shoes, which were still damp.  I drew in a breath and said a little prayer .

 

Journey

A journey is a time and place around you.  It may be as easy as delivering a gift to someone who needs the gift and a bit of human interaction. A journey can be traveling to visit a close family member who has moved.  Sometimes, a journey is just finding a bathroom for a young child,who NEEDS to go.  Journeys can be short in the architectural sense but very long in the hopes,dreams and striving to achieve realms.   People like to plan for journeys, excursion, vacations or just the normal ” “running errands”and such.  There is a comfort in the challenge to complete the plans.

The journey can be exciting and a little scary or it can be a continuity and comfort in the familiarity of the trip.   Moving from one item on the list to another place is a part of living, it is a way to stretch and revitalize our bodies and minds.   It is also, a way to live and achieve that is sometimes understandable, sometimes frustrating or annoying. We accept that there are places and manners that we have to do in order to accomplish what we strived to achieve.