keeping the world at bayCurrent mood: blessed
Two years and almost three months since hurricane Rita and the pain still cuts through me like a dull knife. Going through the shop tonite I opened a crate, now I wish I would not have. In it memories of a happier time, pictures water torn and ragged, the stench of mold hit me like a ton of bricks to the chest and the tears fell down my cheeks and snot ran like a river. I know people can not understand the pain till they lose everything. Little things taken for granted like having a washer and drier after two years of hauling them to the laundermat or taking them to my sons house.
It was my home, it was taken away from me through no fault of my own. I was newly divorced, had my two sons with me and my oldest sons girlfriend everything lost. We picked what we could out, crying over what was lost and what could not be replaced. Just stuff, right?
A lifetime of memories gone. Great grandma Ulenberg's hurrican lamp, my pictures of my children, doors that I could slam and keep the world at bay. It was mine, and now it is gone.
I had it under control or so I thought. I had my miracle in that home. Someone up there likes me, because I was shone I was needed here. A chance to be me, and a new begining. I made my peace or so I thought. It hurts deep.
I made a deal and I have to honor it, save my shop and the animals in it and I can survive. After all it was just material things that should not mean so much, till you see it destroyed. Till you pick through the debris like a scavenger hunting for a meal. No amount of tears can ever bring it back. You turn away from the pain because it hurts to be around the scatterd memories. It was just paper with a childs face that you could barely make out, was that my daddy holding my youngest just before he past? Oh god how will my son ever remembers those times that we forget so often? Pictures of happier times just paper with color added to them, but is hurts so much to see them this way. The musty smell that sinks into your chest and clogs your nasal passages.
My mother wonders why I didn't try to save more than what I did, but it hurt too much. Why did I have to hold on to that crate? To see everything you worked for gone, it was not much just walls, paint and a lot of memories both good and bad, but it was mine. I could lay in bed, and talk on the phone or go play on the computer or take a long soak in the tub.
Things taken for granted. So much lost but so much good too. It made me open my eyes and realize a few things. Life is too short to be wrapped up in just things, yes but it happens. We take things for granted still, but are ever thankful for what we have.
I live in a three room fema mansion, and yes that includes the bathroom with my 19 year old son and my 73 year old mother. It is a lesson in closeness that everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime. We have our many fights and yes it takes a lot of getting used to.
After all I was on my own and now my mother lives with me. I would not have it any other way but at times it is trying. I lose my temper and I know I should not after all she raised me with all the love she could give me. She does not agree with the way I live my live but after all it is my life to live.
My children are my children and will be so to my dying day. I can give advice but I can not live their live for them they must experience it for all the good and bad that there is but they know I will be there for them.
There is no room to run and hide here, no privacy and no way for a person just to let go and wallor without someone in your face. No closets and no doors to slam when you are pissed and no where to run to when you would rather lash out.
However there is a lot of love, even when you would think there is not. There are a lot of misunderstandings, and a lot of hurt pride, but one day there will be a new home where you can close your door and walk naked to the tub and take a long soak and then dry off, take a long nap just because you can and the closed door keeps the world at bay.
Hope
Sadness
