Woke up to think that I was Young, with an Aching in my Heart
(9/11/14)
Wake up feeling like I am being tumbled in a box of rocks
or one of those red rock polishers
that we had when we were kids
putting the jagged stones in-
supposedly so that they would come out all shiny and smooth
a few days later
maybe that is the problem
I expected to be tumbled for a few days
or years
but not decades
I want to be smooth
but I'm realizing maybe it is better to have some edges
The jagged parts are where we grow. “What if it was easy” is a refrain I use a lot nowadays What if it was easy? I say to myself as I struggle to get through another reading assignment or a fight with my girlfriend or myself What if it was easy pops into my head as often as a Christian teen says “What Would Jesus Do?" And then I understand, suddenly, it’s the same thing. Friends of mine say “What would love do?” And it’s simple. Love would let it be easy. Love would take a deep breath and close the books and take a break Love would check Facebook or take her dog to the park and run around for a few hours. Love would drive to the river and play, letting the water sparkle off her eyes like fairies, and letting the sun soak into her soft skin, sand at her back looking up into the vast sky watching birds float over and let it be easy. II Saw a gravestone with my father today at the cemetery. Words worn away from the years but on the bottom I read the phrase "Christ is in all, All is Christ." I am not religious, but I know this to be the same meaning that I wrote before, love, Christ, all is love. All is Christ. In the service for my grandmother the priest spoke about how she was at peace during her final days because she had love. And he said that was her legacy. Love, love, love. My dear friend Laurie signs all of her letters this way, three loves. All is love. I've spent this trip with my sister and we had such a time. She held my hand during the funeral. Dad's cousin, a male relative around my father's age held my hand and cried, and I wrapped my arm around him even though we had never met before the wake. My dad was so proud that he had not cried yet. I found solace in my dad's cousin, when my dad could not comfort me in the way that I needed.
I was comforted in the way that this stranger—
my second cousin— reached out his hand to me
after he took the Eucharist. That I could also offer him solace gave me a feeling of peace and rightness in the world. Although my dad won't be the one to give me that feeling of comfort and love, I know that I can find it in other humans, and in my connection to my god. III A whole soccer team got on the plane when we were boarding in Newark. My sister joked that she wanted one of them to sit between us. None did. But the one across the aisle from me is watching his soccer game on his laptop and crossing himself, taking notes about plays as I write this. I found so much comfort in the Catholic mass for grandma although I am not Catholic. It all comes down to love.
I want to be smooth
but I'm realizing maybe it is better to have some edges
The jagged parts are where we grow. “What if it was easy” is a refrain I use a lot nowadays What if it was easy? I say to myself as I struggle to get through another reading assignment or a fight with my girlfriend or myself What if it was easy pops into my head as often as a Christian teen says “What Would Jesus Do?" And then I understand, suddenly, it’s the same thing. Friends of mine say “What would love do?” And it’s simple. Love would let it be easy. Love would take a deep breath and close the books and take a break Love would check Facebook or take her dog to the park and run around for a few hours. Love would drive to the river and play, letting the water sparkle off her eyes like fairies, and letting the sun soak into her soft skin, sand at her back looking up into the vast sky watching birds float over and let it be easy. II Saw a gravestone with my father today at the cemetery. Words worn away from the years but on the bottom I read the phrase "Christ is in all, All is Christ." I am not religious, but I know this to be the same meaning that I wrote before, love, Christ, all is love. All is Christ. In the service for my grandmother the priest spoke about how she was at peace during her final days because she had love. And he said that was her legacy. Love, love, love. My dear friend Laurie signs all of her letters this way, three loves. All is love. I've spent this trip with my sister and we had such a time. She held my hand during the funeral. Dad's cousin, a male relative around my father's age held my hand and cried, and I wrapped my arm around him even though we had never met before the wake. My dad was so proud that he had not cried yet. I found solace in my dad's cousin, when my dad could not comfort me in the way that I needed.
I was comforted in the way that this stranger—
my second cousin— reached out his hand to me
after he took the Eucharist. That I could also offer him solace gave me a feeling of peace and rightness in the world. Although my dad won't be the one to give me that feeling of comfort and love, I know that I can find it in other humans, and in my connection to my god. III A whole soccer team got on the plane when we were boarding in Newark. My sister joked that she wanted one of them to sit between us. None did. But the one across the aisle from me is watching his soccer game on his laptop and crossing himself, taking notes about plays as I write this. I found so much comfort in the Catholic mass for grandma although I am not Catholic. It all comes down to love.
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