So I was meaning to post yesterday on a different matter, but first I had to look-up “object permanence” to make sure that it meant what I thought it did, and as these things go, many hours later I decided that it was time for bed.
Anyway, I don’t know if folks read the comments that others leave here. In particular, I imagine that new comments on older posts would go largely unnoticed. (I’ve actually played that assumption to add “secret” footnotes on an occasion or two.) New comments are actually emailed to me so that I don’t have to go looking for them. I do not, however, check my email anywhere near as often as I used to, and even when I do, I increasingly will only read a few that are of immediate interest/relevance and leave the rest. All that is merely to say that last night, I had several new comments to read. Adding those with a half a dozen or so others I’ve gotten in the last month or two and…
I’ve been thinking of how to say this in the least rude and belligerent-sounding way possible, because I really do appreciate feedback, but people, your comments confuse me. Whether it’s because I don’t see the relevance to the post on which they occur, or that they contain such a leap in logic or perspective from what I wrote that I don’t know how to respond. Sometimes I’m just left scratching my head wondering, “Do I even know you?” Not that that is a requirement, but it is nice to know who people are.
I admit that I’ve been out of it for awhile, so maybe the problem is me. Or maybe it is merely payback for years of people wondering what the heck I was talking about.
Last weekend I did sound for a mother-son conference…
The speaker had an adopted son. At one point, she alluded to (without going into details) the challenges of being a “white woman with an African-American son.” I can only imagine that that boy must have some heavy identity issues, even above and beyond the normal challenges of being adopted and (possibly) not knowing your real family or where you “come from.” So I’m not so sure I’m on board with this cross cultural adoption thing.
Is that so?
Yes.
Really.
Oh… shut up, you.
So I started thinking about the connections. What is it that binds two people together? Mother to son, family, friends, lovers…
My answer: nothing at all. In my experience, there is no bond that time will not undo.
Awhile ago my church group was talking about the “Five Love Languages.” Which I do not want to get into a long explanation of if you are not familiar. Essentially, people show and expect to receive love in one of five ways (according to some author) and if they do not receive in “their” language then they do not feel loved, even if they get one or more of the others in abundance. I had never heard of this before, so when put on the spot, I claimed the one that went something like “spending time together” as mine. Which I think is pretty accurate, because there is a large part of me that in general seems to feel that I’ve done my part by just showing up. (There’s another part of me that thinks that is a cop-out, but let’s not get into that.)
Regardless, if indeed I show that I care by spending time with people, what sort of message am I sending when I sit alone in my house all day, every day?
I’ve been living like I’m on a summer break. Old things are over. Soon, new things will begin. But in the in between days… I can do what I want. Responsible for nothing; accountable to no one.
But I’m not on a summer break. I’m almost 30 years old but I’m still a child. I have this sense that when the time is right, things will just fall into place.
Someday I will finish that project.
Someday I will write that song.
Someday I will say what I’ve kept inside, and then the world will know.
But the world doesn’t wait. Dreams don’t wait. People don’t wait.
And what if while I’m killing time, waiting for the right opportunity… it’s already too late?