Chasing Daylight

     Yes, chasing daylight is what Zuko and I did getting back to LA.  Zuko was not feeling well - all I knew was I had to get him back to LA.  So, up at 2:00 am, on the road by 3:00 - heading West.  Watching the sunrise in my rearview mirror while that Harvest Moon lit the road in front of me. 
     Somewhere in Kansas it occurred to me...chasing daylight is a thread noticeable throughout my life.  During night, in darkness - bad things happen most.  People are bold when they are hidden in shadows.  People are brave when they believe no one is watching.  Roaches come out in darkness.  Light of day tempers cowardice.  Does not eliminate it. 
      It is thus I have chased daylight.  Watching and wanting the sun to rise.  Believing I was safer by dawn's early light.  Still my favorite time of day is sunset.  Part of my attraction to this left coast was watching sunsets on the Pacific.  And when I was such a basket case, I was frozen with fear until darkness. 
     Ok, I will admit to my dichotomous personality.  You have to give me a break on that one.  Who amongst is always one way, and only one way.  (remembering of course that always and never do not exist on a time/space continuum.) 
     Blocking out every physical or emotional need of my own, I had to get Zuko back to LA.  It is true that whole mother lifting a car off of her child - and I am adept at blocking.  (I think mental health folks refer to it as disassociating) Matters not what you want to call it - LOVE gives us powers beyond comprehension. 
     Along our route, after listening to every song about 10 times more than I could stand.  I went into my "zone." A place which allows me to function without food, water, bathroom breaks, no pain, no thought, no nothing - my entire focus was on 6 feet of white line, then 6 feet of white line, then six feet of white line...
      There, in that space of a pickup cab; from town to town, taking back roads because I could not handle the intensity of interstate driving.  Moving West/South West as safely and quickly as I possibly could I was chasing daylight so I could catch a sunset...in turning off all connections - emotional, physical - having only one purpose - In Kansas, with Dorothy, Tinman, Scarecrow, and the Lion - Well, I knew I could not go home again.  Home was a place I had built with Liz and Emily. Home was friends who became family, who had moved forward as life dictated, and I, I had to find a way to do that. 
      Starting over at 51.  Still knowing and feeling so blessed and loved.  Still feeling unworthy and guilty.  Somewhere along that stretch of small towns the world had all but forgotten.  Boarded up Main Streets, shut down restaurants and cafes; Irony of it all not lost - I could still smile.  I would feel again. 
      I will, I will, I will...through tears I could not stop; I repeated those two words - I will, I will, I will.  How easy it had become to masticate on the minutia (excellent alliteration!) Nope, was not an answer I found.  It was a desire.  My desire, me, this person who has always tried my best - not perfect, not without flaws - yet, a person who has picked up and moved forward. A person who has survived unthinkable acts of cruelty, neglect, abuse - a person who has known deep love, incredible passion, simple joys - we are all me.  I am just like everyone else. 
     I can see work I need to do.  Forgiveness I need to give.  Kindness I am most grateful for.  With all of life I am loved and worthy of being loved.  When I have failed, it was not for wanting to be better.  Sometimes, even our best just is not good enough.  That measuring stick does not belong to me.  In my soul, in my truth - with regrets and with hopes, what I can do is tighten up my laces, pick up my head, and keep watching those six feet of white line. 
     I will keep chasing daylight just for a glimpse of a sunset over the Pacific.  I will continue searching for a better me.  In my darkest hour I will hold that thread of hope.  Though thinking of it, quite honestly is exhausting, I don't know how to give up.  I don't know how to burn bridges or shut doors.  I only know how to keep going.  To continue to do my best.  To pray my best is good enough.  To give thanks for those who humble me with their love and kindness.
      Maybe I will watch The Wizard of Oz.  I have not seen that movie.  Though I know the Lion needed courage, the Scarecrow needed a backbone, and the Tinman needed oil, at least I think that is it.  And Dorothy, she needed to go home.  Reckon, home exists inside of us.  Home is with those who love us.  Perhaps I have only more questions; long stretches of quiet road can illicit questions.  Perhaps a long stretch of sitting still will bring forth some answers.  That would be really cool. Or maybe catching a glimpse of a sun setting over the Pacific - Here's Hoping! 
    

Falling Up

     I did it.  I opened the box and showed all its ugly contents to my father.  I showed him the abuse, neglect, rape.  I showed him all my scars - having the barrel of a rifle shoved in my mouth and being told if I said anything he would kill my sister - then raping me with that same rifle. 
     I told him of being locked in the basement all day long or all night long.  I told him of welts on my back that bled in school; being sent to the nurses office.
     I told him everything - know what he said;
     "I just don't remember.  I was working a lot."
     "Are you kidding me? You were out drinking. You were not working.  When I spoke up I only got beat worse."
     "I just did not know it was so bad."
      Every piece of ugly I showed him he would shake his head and repeat his denial of any knowledge.  But his bitch wife would really like the plastic coffee table she "loaned" me last year. 
      I don't know where the coffee table is.  I do not know. 
     "Are you listening to me? How can you ask me about a piece of furniture, I am fighting for my life here?"
     "I am sorry I let you down."
     Let me down - I don't know what I thought he would say.  I was not trying to hurt him.  I just needed to get rid of that box.  I carried so very long.  I did what I was told - keep the peace.
      "Do you think you could find that plastic coffee table?"
     And on and on and on.
      So, today - four days later, I saw my father again.  Four days his bitch wife hounded him about that trailer park trash coffee table.  Four days of her bullying him and bad mouthing me.
     I brought some pictures I had come across of him with my sister.  I brought him some potatoes from Eileen's garden.  First words out of his mouth -
     "Any luck with the coffee table?"
      That was it.  That was the moment I knew I would never see my father again.  The moment when that freaking box was not mine anymore.  I am fighting for my life and you are worrying about a piece of plastic furniture.
     Today was a day when my father denied everything I said.  Everything I could prove.  Every tear I have shed.  How could I say he never put me first he had a lot of responsibilities, a lot of people who needed to be first - he was married.
      That is it. When he went on and on and on with his denials, accusing me of making it up - telling me that I went into the bastards bedroom because I wanted to.  Yes, a six year old wants to do that. 
      Hence, I am falling up.  It hurts, the bruises will take some time to heal - however, that box is no longer mine.  I am falling, but I am falling up.  And that is OK.  I will get on, get over. 
     Reckon it will be grieving the loss of my father.  To me he is gone.  I won't see him again.  I won't talk to him again.  And when finish getting the last bit of faith I had he might one day put me first - well, I will be falling up.
      I think falling up is flying - I will get there - I will fly.