Tuesday, March 31, 2009

A Gift





“Music” by Henri Matisse (1907)


Music has always spoken to me, as it does so many. As a listener, we are afforded the creative freedom to bend lyrics - almost molding them around our personal situations as they seem to mostly fit. When we relate to a song it makes us smile and usually feels good. I'm good at molding. I like relating. I want that feeling! Sometimes our strongest desires make us hastily connect to certain lyrics that might not completely encompass our story. Yet, it still seems to work – it still feels good.

For the first time I have lyrics in front of me that need not be molded. They don’t call for wishful thinking to fit a certain situation – they don’t because they were written for me…


"Invisible Kisses"

Will you still be here when I return?
Where will you have gone in the meantime?
Your story could never disappoint me

Cloaked by the distance of space and time
Doesn't make them any less real
It makes me smile to think of the many kisses
I place on your forehead morning and night

I have felt you before and I am stronger for it
You are in my story, and I am in yours
Better told after our encounter

Cloaked by the distance of space and time
Doesn't make them any less real
It makes me smile to think of the many kisses
I place on your forehead morning and night

~

Smiling he says, thank you.

Monday, March 16, 2009

I Don't Hate Monday's!

I spent the weekend on my boat – something I try to do religiously. My season starts sometime around the early part of March and often extends through the middle of November. It is a longer season than most experience - at least for this latitude of the Midwest - but then again, I rarely settle for practices acceptable by most! I went to bed early last night, knowing that I would be up much earlier than normal this morning to make the just over two-hour commute from my marina to the office. The gentle movement from the wind and waves, the familiar sounds of the marine air and the many motors and pumps operating rhythmically throughout the night are coupled with the seasonal smells of the lake and offer a deep serenity unlike anything else in my world. Even the short and narrow bed comfortably reminds me of my whereabouts and presence aboard my weekend retreat. The alarm on my phone set for four-O-early A.M. seemed a mild penance for the extra hours afforded with “her” this weekend.

A cup of coffee later I was heading east toward the e-mails, voice-mails, and the Monday morning meetings. After watching the sun rise over the many fog laden fields and forests along the back roads of Missouri I started catching up with some friends in typical texting fashion. (yes, I text while driving) The conversations from this morning were cheerful and bright for such an early hour; a very drastic contrast to the radio DJ who was allowing these miserable souls to phone in and explain why they hated Mondays. The callers sounded like they were describing a man who had brutally murdered their children – you could hear the anger and pure hatred in their voices. I kept turning the station out of disgust but inevitably found myself lured back by the genre and the music that flowed in-between callers; only to have the misery that loves company force my right arm toward the round dial again. "I’m not like them, I don’t hate Mondays," I thought. In fact, there is not much I do hate. I don’t love my job, I don’t love leaving the boat when the weekend is over and I really don’t even care that much for winter. I don’t like mayonnaise, I don’t like Brittney Spears, and I don’t like politics – but rarely will you see or hear me dwell on these things. Our energy is so much better spent focusing on the things we do enjoy, the things that, when we influence them, will make a positive difference in someone’s life!

The following is a small section of the text:

Me: …I got to watch the sunrise while driving – beautiful
Texting Friend: That sounds nice. R u tired?
Me: I got up at 5 to get ready, almost at office. I’m a bit sore from yesterday but not really tired, feeling pretty good!
Texting Friend: Sounds like you had an amazing weekend. Although I get the feeling u have those a lot.
Me: Hah… Well I strive for an amazing everything! There is no need to settle for any less!
Texting Friend: When we were looking at ur profile last night. Ur statement under ur pic describes u perfectly…..when I read it I said. Yep that’s tony.



Friday, March 13, 2009

Happy Birthday to Me

I sit here today full of emotions. Emotions that are so very different from the ones I’ve experienced previously around this time of the year. The holiday-less calendar hanging on the cluttered wall to my right shows only a few days until my first birthday. While it is true that I’ll be celebrating thirty-five years of life, this year marks the first time I’ll be celebrating my birthday with the woman who gave birth to me and then gave me away for a better life – my birth mother, Diana. Our story is truly amazing, deserving of an entire novel, my blog is deserving of a post, and I need to write - something, desperately.

Birthdays were always hard. Birthdays were the one day of the year when (or if) any hope existed that She was thinking about me – this would be the day. Past emotions bordered on depression, sadness, hopelessness, and inanition; while simultaneously I would experience the exact opposite of each of those feelings. The internal emotional conflict adoptees face throughout there life, but especially on their birthday, are beyond my writing abilities. I’m struggling here - wanting to try to accurately articulate my experiences so that others might gain a better understanding into our lives. The following is my best attempt: “Happy Birthday” they tell you. The day you feel like crying and laughing at the same time - all day - while screaming to world from the top of the highest building but feeling like you are stuck inside a dark closet surrounded by your family but feeling totally alone. The day you question your existence; not just your purpose in life, but truly your existence in this world while smiling as you blow out the candles of the cake offered to you as a celebration – something you can’t quite come to terms with yet. So defenselessly you repress those feelings and you cry into your pillow that night not knowing what to do or how to feel, only knowing that your birthday is unlike everyone else’s and it’s really not that happy.

Last year, on my 34th birthday I figured out what I needed to do. I started my search. Less than three weeks later I was sitting at the kitchen table, sobbing, as the woman who gave birth to me was holding my naked feet in her hands for the first time...

My birthday also coincides with a holiday known more so for its green beer and a random excuse to party in the middle of March. I’ve had multiple invitations for the evening’s affairs but can think of only one person I would like to spend my birthday with this year – my first birthday with my birth mother.