Learning to fly

This morning I read a post from Wing Seeker that made me cry and I started to write my own story of discovery, but as the words came out I realized I had said this all before, so many times. I remember telling my first son, a fledging walker at 9 months, not to touch the TV controls. He loved Sesame Street but he would go up to the TV and switch the station or volume and then whimper to me about this disappointing event. He would not associate the movement of the dials with the shadows on the screen for many months so we would play the game. He would sit on the floor and reach his hand up slowly and I would say “no” and move him away. He tried a casual approach, just walking by and looking in another direction, place his tiny fingers in the proximity of the dials. I would still say “no” and move him away. Then the sneaky from the side move, not even standing in front of the picture grab, but still, I would say “no”, move him to another location and try to distract him. This went on for many months before my sweet but determined child learned what “no” meant in this particular situation. I don’t know how many months went by before he grasped the universal concept of “no” but I’m sure he was right on schedule.

I thought about him this morning when I started writing, trying to approach the story from yet another angle, hoping it would change the absolute nature of space and time, but no matter what I say, how I try to rewrite it, my past remains the same. My daughter tells me I dwell too much on things gone by, and no doubt she is correct. Her life opens up in brilliant color as she moves into her most productive and exciting years, while mine begins to fade like the photos of me from the 70’s and 80’s. However one of my favorite poet/songwriters, Towns VanZandt said it better than I can:

Time runs in and then runs out, starts again and it’s always been that way

You’re gonna drown tomorrow if you cry too many tears for yesterday

Tomorrow’s half of all you’ve got so treat him good, cause when I’m gone he’ll stay.

If tomorrow is half of all I have, then yesterday would be the other half, but

I think it might be time to stop writing so much about it. I believe I’m mostly healed and that is most likely the reason I have neglected this blog for so long. So many good and bad things lie behind me and I am going to try and forgive myself and everyone else. After all I have survived, and more than survived, flourished, despite the fears of yesterday. Now my tomorrow is upon me and nothing makes that more real than this picture of my grandson. I give credit to my D-I-L Joriel for the picture and for the nurturing environment she has made for her family.

I also want to commend Wing Seeker for her bravery in telling a story that is decidedly more horrendous than anything I can imagine. I do not know yet how her story ends yet, but I can tell what a remarkable woman she has become. My life looks like a trip to Disneyworld compared to the pain she suffered, yet she is sane and whole and a brilliant writer, the kind that makes you think, the kind that changes your life. Because of her words today I am determined not to forget the past, but to stop dwelling on things I cannot change. I shall however wait quietly to hear the bell that tells me Wing Seeker has achieved her goal.