evidence of you

covered, blanketed with warmth

between the lines

of doubt and fascination

still within

those same eyes

and where were the

words to say

when all was lost

and all was gone away

where were the smiles

and long goodbyes

beneath the pools

of these same eyes

reflecting all

the beauty

i knew was there

where

oh where are you now

asleep upon your bed

your pillow soft against

your head

under a warm blanket

of stars

lulled to sleep by the distant

lullaby of pedestrians

and cars

everything is possible

everything is new

its all no longer escapable

no longer far from true

where are those dreams

those comfortable sighs

lost in imagining

behind those same eyes… 

A Lost Chapter Found

The scene fades again and suddenly I’m flooded with impossibly bright and vibrant colors. I’m reminded of the kind of fade in/fade out scene transitions in movies where a blurry image is suddenly and slowly brought into focus, with every bleeding color and brilliant white suddenly takes shape. I’m standing in a house that I don’t quite recognize, standing at a kitchen counter. There is a soft glow to everything as if the picture has been purposely overexposed and flooded with extra light. The colors are bleeding off their edges making everything look like a painting. I soon realize that this kind of ghost-like blurriness is what signifies that what I’m experiencing right now is not a memory, but rather a dream…a fantasy…my imagination taking over and filling in the blanks.

Next to me at the counter is a teenage boy, her son who is in real life is only six, all grown up and who I have been raising for the last ten plus years as my own son. He’s asking me if he can borrow the car and I’m hesitant, questioning what for. I know he’s responsible, incredibly smart, but I’m playing the part of the cautious parent. There is nothing harsh or accusatory in my tone, just normal, reasonable questions as if he and I have reached an understanding and a mutual respect and trust that only gets built over years between a parent and kid…a good parent, one that listens and doesn’t treat their kids like idiots, who doesn’t give them the benefit of the doubt. Like my mom treated me, never talked down to me or my intelligence level and for it I grew up respecting her and looking up to her. Its what I tried to instill in him…in all our kids. What we both, she and I their mother, tried to instill in them…love, respect, trust and understanding.

Even still, I certainly don’t want him getting into trouble or driving off a cliff, so I question.

Our daughter is leaning against the counter on my other side, she looks distracted and sad. I feel somewhat satisfied with my son’s answers and I say that as long as its ok with mom its ok with me. I immeditately turn my attention to our daughter, give her a concerned stroke on her hair and ask her what’s up. She’s a teenager too and both her mother and I know all too well what kind of struggles you go through at that age. We have talked at lengths about our own struggles, as well as all the good times and pleasant memories. In typical teenager fashion she denies anything is wrong and I say you don’t look like it princess. She says “Dad, stop calling me princess.” and now I know something is differently wrong…or maybe puberty is working against me as it often does lots of parents…even the best ones. I give some carefully neutral advice about talking if you need to and then make some silly sarcastic joke trying to pull a smile out of her and when I get the slightest hint of it I give her a kiss on her head and let her decide if she wants to talk or not. I look over at her mother, who is in the kitchen also offering reassuring words and she’s still just as beautiful as she was so many years ago standing on that beach with me watching the sunset. I think she catches me staring at her, probably smiling absently and smiles back warmly. That’s the point we’ve reached, just understanding, just knowing with only a look. And its given that this will continue for the rest of our lives, complete happiness, despite the many obstacles and tribulations of life…and there always are…but its already accepted and embraced that this is how things will be forever. Unconditionally loving and understanding and raising our children…certainly more than just these two who are also somewhere in the house…to be the same. All the while still finding times for taking life not so seriously, laughing, loving and putting our problems to the side to remember that in the end we, all of us, is all we’ve got.

I turn away and walk towards the back of our house and theirs a sliding glass door. Just like the glass door in my analogy, the thin transparent barrier that in real life is still separating us. In this dream, this possible future I’m on the other side, in a warm house, safe with the family I know and hope one day will be mine. With the girl of my dreams, finally mine in my arms and the kids that enrich that life so much more. I want to stay here in this fantasy forever, wrap myself in what if’s and what could be’s, but something makes me step outside and start searching for my other selves. Something tugs at me and pulls me away. I know what it is…its the desire to make these things real rather than just dream about them and never have them. I have to get out of this fever dream and back into the real world…I have to find my way back to that beautiful girl on the beach, in the bright white sheets of my memory and take her hand and run…run far away from everything that hurts and into a world where everything is possible, bright and beautiful…just like how I dreamt it.

Suddenly…I’m falling.