I experienced a serendipitous moment this morning. On Facebook, I found a page for St. Augustine, Florida. I could feel my mother’s presence. However, she is no longer with me. She passed away years ago. Anyway, it just felt so magical to unexpectedly find so many photos of the place she called her childhood home. I just felt so happy. If I could do it, I would travel there this very week. I have the feeling my next thought would be to move there for the rest of my life. It’s such a beautiful place.
The odd thing is that on a genealogical site I never found St. Augustine, Florida as my mother’s birth home. I always came up with Georgia. I know Georgia is just as beautiful as St. Augustine. I just want to know the truth. Where was my mother born?
Does it matter? I think so. I think Family History is very important. No knowledge of my family background is like feeling lost in a dark place every day. I keep trying different door knobs. Each door knob is locked. I can’t get in. It leaves me to wonder if there is something shameful in my past. If there is something shameful, don’t I have the right to know it? Don’t I have the right to struggle with the truths that have made me who I am? Perhaps, I will pay another visit to a genealogical site. Seeing St. Augustine made me want to do research again.
Her sister screamed. For years, her sister kept her emotions hidden. No one knew whether she enjoyed going up North. No one knew whether she felt happy to graduate from high school. Her face never betrayed the feelings inside. She wore one face for every event in her life until they shot and killed her six months old baby daughter, Summer. Then, she broke loose. She let it all out on the street in front of Maxie’s grocery store. Since that day, I’ve never heard another scream like that one. Since that day, every emotion shows on her face. The laugh might follow a walk up the aisle of the church to look in a casket. A tear might fall while she’s watching a basketball game. Since that one afternoon when she lost Summer, Ellie is all mixed up. I remember reading She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb. My sister has come undone. She’s fallen like Humpty Dumpty. No one can put her together again. She’s broken inside and out.
That night I saw a face in the back of a black SUV. If I ever see that slime face again, I intend to kill him. I won’t need a weapon. I’m going to unglue him with my bare hands. I want him to feel what my sister felt. Then, I won’t feel as sad looking at Ellie’s sweet face.
They wouldn’t like her short plaids
tied with ribbons pink.
She was sure of it.
Once aunts, uncles and friends
touched her skin, they walked
away for always.
Never coming back because
she was like barbecue
without the hot, red sauce.
She couldn’t chance stepping
on to their blue and white porch.
Barbara and Tony and Will would
run in the house.
Close the blinds.
Push the old grey sofa against
Then, look out the venetian blinds.
To make sure she left without
a backward glance.
If I were an inventor, I would make a tiny machine, as big as a cellphone, where my dream ideas could be entered. Thinking up the dreams I would like to have isn’t a new idea. I guess it’s like daydreaming. My Dream machine would work for nighttime dreams. If I could pick a dream, I would pick a dream about traveling. As much as I enjoy travel photos and Armchair travel, I’ve never dreamed about backpack hiking, railroad train riding, biking or flying across the pond. It seems strange not to dream about a passion. I’ve never dreamed about getting locked in a library overnight either. I can’t think why it’s not possible to pick a dream for the evening. Maybe having such power would hinder my imagination. Since my imagination isn’t great, I need nothing that would hinder its progress.
The Daily Prompt
Last night I had the weirdest dream. In the dream I was on another planet. This planet didn’t have a recognizable name. I just know the planet spun faster than the earth and the sun. I landed on this planet after running away from Planet Earth. Earth followed me like a big bully. It’s always impossible to survive an attack of a bully. I survived this one. I landed on this pink and white planet. It looked like a candy cane. I almost looked around for Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus because the planet was so much like a Christmas Eve. How wonderful if there was a Christmas planet to run to every time a bully attacked. When the dream ended, my pink and white planet rolled over and smashed my bully. Instead of waking up screaming, I woke up smiling. I tried to go back to sleep. So I could return to this foreign but friendly place. It didn’t happen. I ended up going to the kitchen to eat an orange.http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/freudian-flips/#like-84319