everyday is d. day

ode to Henrietta Carolina

i am my mother's daughter. i don't know how pleased she would be with this declaration, but i think it is true.

this short phrase has been resonating and echoing through the curved  chambers of my cranium for years now. it has been getting louder and louder with each passing year since she died almost 14 years ago. every mother's day, every occasion when family usually gathers, it thunders. as i try to gain a better understanding of myself i am reminded of her.

i catch glimpses of her in myself all the time. the sharp angle of my profile, the elegant swoop of my neck are hers. our thin psychic skin; so easily bruised and hurt; our circumspect pride.

make no mistake about it, she was as much a stranger to me at the time of her death as i am sure i was to her. there was an unspoken chasm we never bridged. we never even neared the edge. on a few wine soaked evenings we laughed with abandon, skimmed the surface, but even then she was vigilantly guarded. she never dropped the barricade that protected the pathway to herself. the more i pushed, she further she retreated into a blithe and unaffected cool.  the longer i knew her the further away she disappeared from my view. at one time, in a patch of domestic turmoil, she reached out to me, and with it glimmered a tentative possibility. then, in the blink of an eye, a rabid cancer coerced her into the refuge of the status quo, to what she knew.

with age comes a certain type of wisdom, a more learned perspective (one would hope), i bear the excruciating knowledge that she will always be an enigma to me. the questions i had will forever remain unanswered. i will never gain any insight into who she was, save for the uncanny resemblance i find in myself to what i do know of her.

holidays loom and i find myself caught in a tumultuous grip of acute inexplicable grief and loss, triggered by the season. this is the month that she died. and even more baffling, with each year that passes the more persistent this ache becomes.

as i continue to grapple with my own conundrum i hope that my son won't find himself struggling to gain a similar understanding. i've made my life transparent to him with the invitation to ask any question he needs answered. i've made it known that he has every right to know. i love him without reservation and trust that we will both grow to possess the level of a deep and abiding relationship.

and now....

a little bit of coffee and going round with two simple crosswords pulled the cobwebs out of my head. it's like this every day. when i finally push myself out of bed it's a struggle to stay fully present even with work to do.  after i scurry about with the pressing business of feeding the cat, i wash my face, turn on the computer, throw open the balcony door, and make the bed.

then my world goes into slow motion again. what i am lacking is purpose, even with things to do. those are errands, the business of life and i've learned how to deal with them, manage them. i could perform this stuff with my eyes closed.

it's driving myself beyond what needs to be done. all my good intention disappears.  i'm halfheartedly poking away at my computer to complete this blog, because part of me says "why bother". i turn my face toward the new day with a mixture of dread and anticipation.  early on part of me hopes that there will be news of a job or an interview and when the day comes to a close the anticlimax of it all complete deflates me.

masks

watching poker on tv which is strangely yet wholly captivating and still i wonder why? i suppose it has something to do with the human story. how does it end? who will be the victor?

and since i am watching i may as well cheer someone on. right now i am rootong for the man who came naked to the table, wearing nothing but his black polo shirt. one of the players facing off against him looks like a living sketch of the unabomber; hood up, black sunglasses shrouding his eyes. have no respect for this and i am hardly an afficianado of the game. it's just too gimmicky. it makes me think of other professions. got a tough meeting at work? why not wear that old halloween ape mask to gain an advantage by throwing off the upper managementt? it seems silly and unnecessary.

will there be a home sweet home?

i am meeting s. in awhile to go look at an apartment. s. holds out hope upon hope that we will find one before the end of the month, but it is slim pickins' out there. he bridles at the notion every bc renter has had to deal with as a fact of life--giving notice and then finding the new home in the short space of that month.

our mon petit chat doesn't help any. i reckon our chances are cut down a further 75% based on the unreasonable bias (based no doubt on the bad behaviour and bad tenancy of others). like the flip saying about men it could be said likewise that all the good ones are gone out there in apartment land, and given now that vancouver has developed a hopeful avarice bred by the upcoming olympics, i say we have a bit of a snowball's chance at finding a decent one at all. but i remain optimistic. in the same way i remain optimistic about winning the lottery someday. it's likely, but it also is very unlikely.

i gave up on living in vancouver again, casting out the net as far as coquitlam. given this new development the friends and family i rarely see i will likely never see and i may as well be living in toronto--i wish.....