Standing solid like a stone....

There seems to be a common theme to my life at the moment.  Endure.  When something happens that would have upset my equilibrium where, in the past, I would have been knocked sideways now I am learning to stand solid and endure the waves.  Not in a "what can't be cured must be endured" kind of way, not as a martyr who stands and shudders as the lash strikes, but in a simpler way...  more like making the upset not so much of a priority, and not making someone else's emergency create chaos.  Like a stone that water washes over, I am learning slowly that the water won't hurt me and I don't have to allow the flooding to affect my mood, my actions, my life.  That isn't to say that I am always unaffected.  When it comes to those I care for I am able to take actions for the good to make sure I have done the right thing at the time.  Starting small and working towards having that reaction every time has made me feel more centered.  I understand more now who I am and what I need for myself.  I also understand that I have a hard, focused part of my personality that I can allow to override my fears so I can act instead of react. 

There have been a few bites of chaos in my otherwise quiet and rather peaceful life.  My dear baby brother "R" had a mini stroke;  he was worried for me and sent me a message so I would know where he was and what had happened.  I left work.  Simple as that.   Where before I would have been frozen with being unable to make a decision I told my employer "I have a family emergency", locked most of the place up tight and went where I needed to be.   He was sitting alone in Emergency and uncomfortable in the nasty bed...  not a fun gig, to be sure.  But his condition was stable and he was incredibly glad to see me.  I stayed at his side until he was ready to finally get some sleep and drove home again.  It felt right for the first time in a long time, acting the way I needed to instead of the way someone else thought I was supposed to.

Then work; one of my regular customers had a terrible fall and I was first on the scene.  Dear God, I have never seen so much blood.....  the poor lady was laying on the floor unconscious and had split her head open on a fixture.  I acted by rote; call the "code", put pressure on the wound, supporting her head, get a customer to call 911 and wait.  I was joined quickly by other staff, but I could not let up the pressure on the gash in her forehead, and I needed to keep her on her side as her nose was also bleeding and I needed to keep her airways clear.  I'm so glad I always wear those little black gloves, and I had used so much paper towel for the compress that it didn't bleed through....  tossed the gloves and sanigel'd my hands up the wazoo afterwards!   And for the first time I felt what pure, clean adrenaline really feels like!  Not the sick manic feeling of being out of control and pulled behind a runaway horse, but with a firm hand on the reins, giving me the strength and focus I needed during a crisis without the horrible after-feeling that comes with not acting... and the ability to absorb the shock without burying it later or allowing it to continue to echo through me. 

There is no jitteryness, no aimless wandering, no inability to focus.  I just "am".  Calm.  It feels like peace.

I laughed the other day when a coworker told me they were worried that confrontation with another staff member would restrict their hours... and I told them "suck it up, smile, be courteous... it makes them crazy when you don't react..."...  and it's something I said with a big smile on my face and a chuckle in my voice.  Because I know from personal experience that when you fake that until you feel it, eventually it all calms down and smooths out, like the ripples on water when you drop a stone into it.  The stone is still a stone, it's the water that is moving.  Now I get to carry that peace with me.  It flows from me and is attracting those who need it.  No judgement.  No aggression.  No anger.  No more open, wounded feeling.  Just daily acceptance that the world is where it needs to be and so am I.

Now I'm going to enjoy a few days off and take care of myself... a little rest, a little time with friends, a little creativity and a lot of peace.  Well, I somehow don't seem to need that caffe mocha vodka valium latte....  and I'm not going anywhere....  

One step up at a time...

I am again stepping into the storm and trying to steer my way out without floundering. Living life in a normal way has not been normal for me.  Giving myself permission after waiting for it elsewhere is so new that I second guess myself a lot of the time.  I get myself caught in small details instead of keeping my head down and concentrating on one thing at a time.  But it's spring, and really time for spring cleaning at last.  That includes airing out my head, as well as my house! I have embraced the idea that taking care every day and keeping my home maintained will do more for me than all the soul searching and "belly button" examinations I could spend time on.  Having my floors clean, the bathrooms smelling fresh, dishes done and tidied and clothing folded and put away lifts my spirits more than clinging to an illusion of company on my Facebook pages.  I have moved my sewing station back into the kitchen where I can enjoy the sound of the television blaring music while I have movies playing in the background as an illusion of company, and I am getting things done.  Meals are actually quite regular, the dogs are happy, the cats sleep in comfort on my bed and dream.


The most amazing and joyful thing in my life is my dear little Grandson!  "C" is the center of the family universe, the reason I work so hard to be normal.  I am also facing the anniversary of my Mom's passing....  I miss Mom so very much, every day.  Having my little Grandson to love now makes it so bittersweet.  Mom would have loved him and been proud of us all....  my wonderful, strong, loving daughter, my amazing sons, and me making one step after another... a bit slow at times, but still moving ahead where I can, when I can.  When I think that I "can't" I just ask myself "what would Mom do?"...  and what she would have done is take stock of what she had, make do when she could, make something out of what was on hand, and just keep going.   I have plenty to work with, I'm lucky enough to have my health, I have lots of free time to do what is needed, and I'm certainly no slouch when it comes to "invention"....  I do, however, have a problem sometimes remembering there are some things I CAN'T do.... like lift 80 lbs....  over and over... without hurting!  Or leap tall buildings at a single bound!

Truth is, I am a hoarder.  I hoard stacks of paper, memorabilia, fabric scraps, coloured egg shells, threads, cooking equipment, recipes...  for me, each piece of paper evokes a memory or a reminder of something; the broken saxophone, the blue ribbons from the fair, the last letter from Mom, the children's watercolours, envelopes from friends who have sent me things...  sometimes I use the chaos created by the piles and boxes as a distraction.  I "hide" from the rest of the world behind "to do" lists that really have nothing "to do" with everyday living but are in fact a reason to NOT go out into the world.   But I have lived too long in "dream time" and need to feel the world again.  Feel the wind in my hair, the rain on my face, sunshine, moonlight, the wonderful aliveness that I feel in the cold...There have been moments over the last couple of weeks where I felt myself drifting and unstable.  Those are the times I literally stand with my feet planted and feel the weight of my body holding me to the ground.  I am all the anchor I need right now.  No amount of self deprecation, no amount of second guessing my responses to outside stresses, and no amount of worry will change that.  Take a deep breath and keep moving.  Just because someone else thinks they want something of me doesn't mean I have to give it.  And it doesn't mean I get to give up.  Yes, the legal battles continue, and no one can take care of my business except me.  I cannot quit looking at the problem or it will escape me, but it's no longer sending me into a tailspin of anxiety.   It doesn't take up all my thoughts or all my waking hours trying to solve some problem that isn't really a problem to begin with;  it's just a difference of opinion...  and I like my opinion much better...

So it's another weekend of quiet and listening to the little dogs upstairs and the kids downstairs....  I think it's "Beer Pong" night for them and their friends... For now I'm just taking it one step at a time and leaning on my friends when it gets too much.  I think of them as  "Angels at my back" right there with my Mom at the head of the line, with her right arm around me, lifting me up, and her left hand covering my heart, shielding me from hurt.... and in the meantime, I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go... please!

Cutting ties....

It's been a hell of a year.  After a long and difficult time I have to look back at what I accomplished over the last while, where I am, how I've grown and where I need to keep improving.  Too many days I have felt like I was walking drunk; feeling unstable, my head swimming, slow to make decisions, uncomprehending what moment I was in... tired, a little dreamy, sometimes with long reaching and lasting affects...  The low times were just that;  no movement, no change, no life in me and no effect on me.  Other times meant I was risking things I shouldn't, spending too much, eating too much or not enough, spreading my energies too far and not finishing things I started...  sharp and focused, obsessive, energized, manic... not good...  Both cycles have been going full tilt for a while.  In spite of the cyclical patterns my brain fires in I have still managed to keep my job (a first for me in what has been a pattern of long standing), I have still gotten myself up every day, the dogs are still fed, watered, cleaned up after, the cats are healthy and happy, and I continue to take my medication - although the dosage has been increased for a couple of months now.  The toughest part has been letting go.  Letting go without trying to take the baggage up again is hard.  Leaving little bits of it on the side of the road as I travel hasn't cut the ties enough to keep me moving forward.

In my latest call to one of my best friends "T" talked me through to another level of understanding by letting me answer my own questions.  I realize that at the very earliest times in my life, when I was very small and first realized the universe held no boundaries, that my greatest fear has been being anchorless  and becoming lost in the chaos of that universe.  Instead of learning to put up boundaries for myself I allowed all and sundry to invade my emotional space.  I let myself become tied to people who didn't have my best interests at heart; the selfish, the self serving, the bullies, predators and those with so little self esteem they "needed" someone else to push, take from, bully, prey upon and belittle.  I emulated the worst of those traits and learned to reflect back what others felt to hide who I was from them and from myself, mirroring their traits to blend in with the rest of the herd, not show I was vulnerable.  But that made me more vulnerable instead of less...

I have begun the internal visualization of physically cutting the bonds to the terrors from my past.  I have felt for a long time that my "heart" has been wrapped with a long, tough tentacle that anchored me to those terrors, and it has taken some deep searching,  looking at the darkest parts of myself - those parts of me I never wanted to examine too closely or allow to come into my direct field of view - and bring them from the peripheral to center stage,cringing in horror at what I have been.   There has been a huge disconnect in my interface with the real world and the human condition. Uncaring, unthinking, unguided... sheeplike in following someone else's ideas to avoid making hard and healthy choices for myself.  Selfish and childish, blindly believing lies because it was easier than believing those I loved would lie to me, and so I lied to the ones I loved most and to myself as well.

The time for being something I wasn't for someone else is over...  So I have taken that scarred and gnarled "chain" that encircles the core of me and snares me in my own lies and begun to mentally "slice" through it to set myself free.  I "see" myself grasping the tough tissue that invades my "body" and cutting viciously to remove the thing from my emotional center.  In my innermost and most basic core I worry that unless I extract every cell of that "chain" it will grow back and ensnare me again like a cancer. I use whatever my mind can create to accomplish removing the poisonous link; sharp knives, razors, scissors, cutting through something that resembles the thick sinews or the tough cartilage in the bones of a large piece of meat, trying to extract all of it without destroying the core of me in the process, finally digging deeply with my own fingers to tear it from my "flesh".... and I feel those distant and unwanted ties dissipating, thinning like candle smoke from a glowing wick.

I still dream that I confront those "ties" and scream at them... why they couldn't be there when I needed them, when my children needed them after all the times I had been there when they or their children needed me... but I know those conversations are useless because they would never happen in real life, and even if I did speak those words, those I spoke to would only lie to me again and blame me for their own failures, or turn a deaf ear so they couldn't see those dark parts of themselves, or tell other people and themselves that I was just a crazy liar to discredit me and deflect their shame onto me again.  A futile and unneeded waste of energy at this point, because just as it was a year ago it is still today; not my lesson to teach, not my responsibility to rescue...

The thing is, like a baboon that throws it's own feces when angry, the only ones who smell are the ones throwing the dirt.  I just  stay far enough away to be out of range and let things be.  So let them toss their "rotten eggs" at me to no effect.  The only people who's opinion matters to me now are those who have been with me on the "rough ride" and who stuck around long enough to see it through.  Even though I haven't completely cut the bond I am close enough that I can feel myself beginning to drift, but it's not away into uncharted chaos.  I'm finally starting on my life journey and steering away from the harbour I thought was home.  I can bring all the important things with me; self esteem, self awareness, calm, balance, love... and leave the rest.  I don't have to be anchorless, I just have to untie myself from the port and head back out to ride out the rest of the storm.  And rather than worry about being broken by crashing against the dock I'll breath the fresh air and feel the joy of racing ahead of the wind...  and let the baboons fill their pants back on shore.

As of today I am lucky enough to have all my children back in my arms, knowing in myself how much I love them.  And today, as I held my daughter in my arms and hugged her tight I kissed her cheek and told her how much I loved her, and how much I miss my Mom... and how happy my Mom would be.  Soon my child will hold her own child in her arms and he will fall in love for the "first time"... and if I'm very, very lucky I will have a chance to witness the miracle that happens when he falls in love with her.  And I hope in my heart of hearts that the darkness will end with me... 

So here's a toast to you who have ridden out the storm with me, to those who I pass on my travels, to those I love, and those I have truly left behind... a pomegranate cider to celebrate Yuletide.  Next time I may need a cafe mocha valium vodka latte to go... but not this time......

Nothing like a plasma fire.....

It's December and my thoughts are streaming ahead to Christmas.  I'm listening to the "log" show and mulling my thoughts instead of wine.  I have gifts stashed away for the ones I love, plans to pick up special purchases over the next few days, thoughts in my brain about having friends over for my annual Christmas party...  The lights are ready to be flung over the shrubs out front; red for the crab apple tree, magenta for the little azalea I planted when it was small, green into the kiwi bushes and yellow for the quince tree... there are strings of blue to put around my front door once the swags of artificial fir have been stapled into place again, and I can hardly wait to put up the wreath in it's place to welcome guests to my door.

Today I purchased enough butter to make my Christmas cakes, a few cookies, perhaps some almond danish...  just enough to eat and some to share.  There are cute plastic zippy bags with Christmas gift tags on the front so you can write "to" and "from" on them, load them with goodies and pass them to friends and coworkers...  I have enough wrapping paper to outfit Santa for the season, tags and bags and tape and ribbons...  and canning jars to make Christmas pudding in, too.   I'm looking at making something large and green from boughs in my garden to place on my front porch and welcome those who visit.  I have the perfect planter in the back garden to use for it, and lots of time over the next couple of days to gather my greenery....

I love all the greenery associated with Yuletide;  fresh cut Fraser firs from a farm... oh, my....   fir boughs and ivy masses, holly sprigs and mistletoe.   Of all of them I love the holly the most.  I tried to plant holly near my front door when I first moved here over 20 years ago, but with one thing and another the plants were left dry for too long and not planted soon enough, so they died.   When the children were small I picked fresh holly with the neighbours permission and I placed it around the front door.  At the end of the season I tossed the dried sprigs under the azalea beside the  door and left them there until clean up in the spring.  And now, hidden underneath in the shelter of the big azalea shrub are a dozen small holly bushes.  Even though I have masses of ivy growing in my back garden it's the holly by my door that cheers me the most.  Holly with shiny, dark green leaves that are sharp with the prickles that make them a deterrent to small hands. I have been given to understand that growing holly is finicky.  It doesn't transplant well, grows very slowly, and needs to be cross pollinated to bear fruit - most holly purchased at the garden center has been grafted with a male branch to be sure and produce those bright red berries everyone expects.  I was always told that holly planted by your door wards trouble and brings luck.  After all that has gone on and all that was removed from my garden in the last few years I'm delighted and intrigued by the discovery I made this summer. So I have little miracle holly bushes;  such a pleasure.

I'm getting ready for another series of "firsts" this Christmas;  first time without my Mom to call or invite or tell my joys to; first time with my son back in the house, but living separately as an adult; first time since I was divorced - first time to make a turkey to share on Christmas day and ask those I love to partake...  Tonight I have made some plans for the next few days; where to shop, what to mix, when to make things, who to invite here...  and while I'm making my lists and checking them more than twice the "log" show is crackling on my 50 inch plasma screen in 720p....  no smoke, no smell, just the quiet sound of resin pockets bursting in surround sound.  I'm thinking about mulled wine, but in the meantime I'd really like a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go...  and add a stick of cinnamon ....

Making quilts...

I have always loved to sew.  My Mother put a threaded needle into my little hands when I was only two, and I remember my Aunt "B" showing me how to tie a knot into the end of the thread for the first time.  My stitches were long and crooked, but I was very proud of my first "seams".  My only problem was the thread was too short, so when I got to the edge of the cloth piece I was "making" into a blanket the sewing line puckered up and gathered the material into a bit of a bunch.  I was not pleased with the result - which says a lot when you remember how small I was.

When I was only four my Mother started to allow me to begin using the old Ford de Luxe sewing machine; a neat old electric model that had an external motor with a rubber belt on the flywheel.  She would tell me to sew "along the lines" on the lined writing paper sheets from old school notebooks, no thread, an old needle, and nimble little fingers needing something to keep me out of trouble as she chased after my toddler baby brother and awaited the birth of my youngest sister!

Mom created  the most amazing things with that machine in quick order; Hallowe'en costumes from what ever she had on hand, like burlap sacks for buckskin; coat-hanger wire to add "ribs" to a vampire cape; lace or other beautiful fabrics made over from adult sized dresses to pint sized ones for us; seams let out or taken in for a better fit.  I learned mostly that you can do what you want with fabric and you are the best judge as to whether or not you reach your goal. I would sew clothes for friends, make costumes for parties, coats for the pets, Barbie dresses... whatever I decided was good.  Then I discovered patchwork.

I realized very quickly that it was something I loved!  I actually used high school Geometry lessons in the real world to create the angles and lines that would morph into something more like art than home economics.  I made simple quilts at first for my first nieces and nephews; a puffy flannel cloud with stitched trapunto faces, little gingham triangles in soft colours, fun fabrics with ruffled borders.  I planned beautiful scrap quilts and laid them on flannel sheets to roll up and save until I had a place to work with enough room, and wished for a little more time while the kids grew... I saved fabrics, planned on teaching classes, kept notes on patterns, colour pallets, even began hoarding lengths of cotton - now known to most quilters as a "stash" - and realized my delight in looking at the colour, feeling the weight of the quality cottons, testing the thicknesses on the flannels, and understanding that I am a "Fabric Addict", a "Textile Hoarder" or a "Quilt Whore"... and laughing about it.   I volunteered to teach hand sewing to grade schoolers, helped preschoolers make patches for baby quilts when their teachers were taking leave to raise their own newborns, created many quilts to raise funds for class trips and class projects, learning to better my techniques and trust my instincts on colour and form.

And then I stopped.  When my world fell apart and my life lost it's flavour I had no desire to create.  The fabrics were whittled down and put away, stored for "later"...

So when a friend explained in the Fall of 2010 that they were looking for donations to raise funds for charity I offered to crawl out of my hole and make them a quilt.  I worked for over a month, immersing myself in the colours of the fabric at the waning of Summer and the first few days of fall.  I stacked reds, russets, oranges, yellows, greens...  cream and deep indigo...  and began to feel alive again.  I completed the project as planned, sewing right up to the deadline, and it was offered on silent auction - my best work to date.  I loved every little square, every stitch, every line and colour.  And my friend told me to "make quilts" to bring me out of my darkness... "make quilts"...

I have revived my love of the creative process again.  I have been asked on more than one occasion for commissioned work, but so far I have stuck to gifts and charity.  At this moment, when I am again being dragged back into the mess and drama by a discontented "ex" I am taking time to keep my joy alive by creating something that will make a difference to another human being; matching "twin" squares for an international pair of quilts to raise awareness and help raise funds to combat ovarian cancer.  After that I will concentrate on quilts for our "littlest" recipients...  there are several new little "stars" in my Universe that I want to be able to fold up in a blanket of love...  and thanks to friends I have rediscovered my "love" to be able to create. 

So I'll be cutting and sewing for a day or two... and in the meantime I'd like a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... just don't spill it on the quilt!

Learning the hard way....

My lawn is cut, Hallowe'en is over and I have taken all the candy and given it away - some to friends, some to family, and the remaining sack full went to the Foodbank this afternoon during my round of errands.  I have new leashes for my dogs, a new jerry can for the lawnmower, and a new direction for myself.

Go ahead.... laugh....  I moved back into the upstairs.

This time I moved most of it on my own, one box or bag or bin at a time, up and down the stairs every day, over two weeks, until my back refused to lift or my knees refused to climb.  With a little help from my son "J", his buddy "C" and my nephew "P" I got all the important stuff into place; the waterbed (ah... scooshy bed is back...), the couches, cupboards, freezer, dining table, filing cabinet and heavy carved dresser;  everything else I either rolled up, muscled up or dragged up.  I am sore, sweaty, my hands ache, I have bruises in stripes on my arms and shoulders, my knees are complaining, and I'm happy - almost elated really - and down about 10 lbs.!  It took two weeks, and I still have to clean up the carpets and floors in the suite, but the pets have resettled nicely, and I have the rooms organized to my personal satisfaction! 

I now have a studio!  The fabrics for my quilts have shelves to be displayed on and windowed cupboard doors to keep the cat off!  I have open shelf units for my boxes of thread, a wall to hang my flannel workboard all the time, a window for light, and the photos of my most loved children, nieces and nephews to look at whenever my mind wanders from task.  There is a spot for works in progress, niches for upcoming projects, and closed storage bins for my seasonal crafts - notably the Ukrainian Pysanky I love to create in the spring every year.  There is even a special place for the last remaining instruments I decided to keep and play, with their portfolios of music beside them, and my vocalize and Arie Antiche for those moments when I feel joyful and want to sing.

The computer is put away in it's own office where it will not be a constant distraction!  The files and budget papers, lists of assets and expenses, legal documentation, orders, consents, in short the "paper monster" has finally been tamed and caged.  I spend a little time writing or catching up, checking email, playing "poke" on facebook with friends, and then I walk out and close the door.  No longer my only companion.  I spend my best time now taking care of my home and garden, pulling a few weeds, making sure the trash is sorted and gone, running my little robot vacuum and smiling.

The kitchen has come back to life; butter chicken fragrant with fresh chopped cilantro; slow cooked oatmeal thickened with ground flax meal;  scallop and bacon chowder with saffron in the broth; grilled cheese sandwiches loaded with warmed, shaved honey ham; there is shortbread dough in the freezer, candied fruit marinating in brandy; a whole shelf with my wonderful wine collection; there was even a  party on Hallowe'en where little kids ate hot dogs with me and watched "Hocus Pocus"...  in short, I have my life back. 

I never realized that I was the one who just handed bits of my life to anyone who asked. Those who did take it didn't value it. It wasn't theirs to take, nor was I obliged to give it to them. I find I have become a little more cynical, no longer trusting blindly as I realize now the only person who I should ever truly trust is myself.  I have been screwed over more than once in the last couple of years, taken advantage of, learned to see other people in a more realistic way, and I have to say I am no longer QUITE the naive person I was at the beginning of the journey, but I still need the advice of good friends to keep me from screwing myself up again!

So now it's time to live with fulfillment, enjoy each task and complete each task in order, take on new projects, achieve in new ways, and remember to let Karma take care of the rest; I don't need to get even.  Because living well really IS the best revenge... and I'll have a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... please...

Walking with ghosts...

I recently called my younger brother "R" and we discussed a number of things that were on my mind.  He suggested I "go back in time" so to speak, and walk through some of the places and memories from before my relationship with the "ex".  It seemed like a simple enough idea, although having been with said "ex" from the age of 15 there were not a lot of places or people untouched by his presence or interaction.  So on a marginally sunny day  I booked a dogsitter for the hellraisers and filled my gastank.  It is the first day of September, and the PNE is open!

Ah, the PNE...  a place that holds so many memories that some of them were only about me and those I love.  I recalled watching my brothers skate at the forum, in awe while my oldest brother drove the Zamboni.  Falling on the ice or running into the boards HARD!  Hot chocolate at the concession on a cold day.  The Marketplace, where just about any type of TV or Online hyped up merchandise can be had for much more than a song... where Aunt Margie's Fudge sits close to the (newly discovered) roasted almond booth - and the espresso glazed warm toasted almonds were worth the price...  I almost felt saintly buying toasted nuts instead of "those little donuts"...  Food, food, food!  Hunky Bills, Curry in a Hurry, gelato, pizza, pasta, fried chicken, burgers, hot dogs, Jamaican and Japanese and Whale Tails....  deep fried Mars Bars...  and an entire row of rib kitchens having a "cook off" to see who would come up in front on the "best ribs at the fair"...  Roving performers that knocked my socks off - a group of 8 very young drummers playing marching band rhythms interwoven with pop culture lines... and dancing while they pounded until the drum sticks shattered in their hands... and Dal Richards' Orchestra playing sweet mellow tunes my parents danced to in a misty Vancouver afternoon.

I  got a tarot card reader to throw the cards for me... nothing new there, just the usual; the Tower (another cluster fuck), 8 of wands (carrying a load of emotional baggage with the end just out of sight), Judgement (exactly) 7 of swords (mourning), with the Empress for new life, the Emperor for strong leadership... and I've turned those cards over and over myself, but it was good to have another opinion...  after all, it's about the interpretation more than anything.  Had Frontier Photo shoot my portrait - I think this is the 5th one for me!  Photographed a few places that once meant something; the spot the "ex" actually proposed, the bandstand, a huge pile of shipping containers stacked alternately with cars... and it reminded me of my brother and his lego with the Hot Wheels,

I watched the Superdogs in the Coliseum, bypassed the prize home, crawled through all the barns to smell the clean hay and watch tiny chickens hatch.  I walked into the Hastings Park Racetrack for the first time on my own and realized that I had been there almost 50 years before... standing at the side, watching the horses being walked from their stalls to show to the crowd before their warm up... only now I was tall enough to see over the fence where before I barely came halfway up!  I felt insecure and alone the entire time.  I started going through the art displays and discovered an homage to the dockworkers of the Port of Vancouver... and my heart came up into my throat and I felt an overwhelming wave of grief come over me.  There, hanging on a hook near the back was a coverall just like the ones Dad used to wear, and there was a tattered little chair set beside an empty cable spool, used as a table...  I could almost smell the grimy oil, the welding solder, the burnt cotton smell from the pinholes that pocked his clothes...  and I missed him with all my heart in that instant.  It made me realize that I have been travelling with the ghosts of my past all around me.  My Dad, my Mom, my past relationship, friends and loved ones who have moved on or passed on... but my memories are just that.

Having felt for a long time that my Mom is with me always is a comfort, but there are times when I wish I could turn to look over my shoulder and see her there.  It's an urge that is unsatisfied, an ache that has no comfort, and I wonder how other people deal with it.  She would have loved the music, the joy, the enthusiasm and the life in those young performers.  And the Dad I remembered was the one who held my little hand, dapper in his nice shirt with his hair all brushed neatly as he stood with me to watch the thoroughbreds walk past.  The Dad who always won a prize at the sledgehammer game... because he was Superman to me.

Just before I left, just for old time's sake, I bought tickets to "win a house, win a car..."  and filled out my name and phone number.  I may as well have dumped them into the trash, as I have never, and will never, win anything from the Fair.  But I have some new memories to link up to the old ones I had hiding in some old drawers in the far cupboard with the pig races and the pigeons.  Maybe that is the "reset" my internal clock needed.  Something to bridge me from the past to the future without having to carry all the heavy, painful stuff all the time to get there.  And I'm sad, and a little melancholy.  But I'm also feeling a little hope.  And I believe that living in a world without hope is the saddest thing of all.

So it's time for me and my ghosts to go our own ways.  They have a lot of travelling to do to catch up to where they should be, and I have a lot of uncovered ground to bring me to where I need to be.  I will just have to do it without their company and make some new models of the best way to make my life the way a life can be lived.  I need a cunning plan... and in the meantime I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...