Begin the Begin

Yesterday's post a day late:  no surprise.

Mom would be disappointed in me, focusing on the inane and not the obvious here - it's snowing and I have no boots, no hat, no gloves, no winter coat.  However, she didn't caution me when I left this morning, as she predicted for the rain to turn to snow.  Maybe that was her gentle hint, but I'm obtuse as of late, and so today I will have to brave the snow in my fall jacket and sneakers.  I used to be five steps ahead, and I at least seemed to have the next five years planned.  Now, I'm ill prepared, drifting from moment to moment, still drinking hot water instead of tea.

Where do I begin and the nightmare ends?  Do I tell you childhood tales of the endearing and often comical sort chronicling my adventures with baby brother?  Or do I tell you tales of sledgehammers to bent lawn mower blades and bleeding hands in the kitchen turned to infection after weeks in a dirty ace bandage medicated with liquor and someone else’s pain killers?  Do I tell you about the frequent assaults on my freezer, husband yelling, strewing the contents on the counters and the floor?  "Tell me, what do we need with all this food?"  Do I tell you about how the he almost dropped our infant son on those counters after insisting he must help with the bath through stuttered speech?  Do I tell you about the hope and optimism of tunneling out the other side of this craziness?  Or do I tell you of the worry and embarrassment of having your mother move in to alleviate day care costs while you prepare to sell a house you've owned for less than a year?  Or do I simply pout and say, "life is not fair."?  I won't lie and say it's fine.  I won't exaggerate it either.  My life doesn't read like a Toni Morrison novel, but a fairytale it isn't.  I know Dr. Jekyll, but I know Mr. Hyde better.

I'm done being Jacques Cousteau - no more undersea adventures for me; I don't have the necessary breathing equipment. 

I'm yelling "Carolinas" in my head and I doubt you'd get the reference.  I woke up underwater and now I arise to breathe, so eventually when the dragon's slain, I can yell it loud and long with my broken lungs.  It's something from my childhood, but this time James Earl Jones doesn't scare me.  I'll pawn the red crown too, and still choose science over magic, any day.