Home is where they have to let you in.
I wish my mom wasn’t sick. I wish she could still dance and go to the ocean.
I remember when I was a little kid I was horribly hyperactive. I would only sleep one or two hours a night and she had to hire babysitters to watch me just so she could sleep. The only time I could relax is when she took my shirt off, laid me across her lap, and rubbed my back lightly with the tips of her fingers. I would lay there, still for the first time in hours and hours, almost in a meditative trance. She didn’t do it often because usually she couldn’t catch me.
I remember when I was a teenager and putting her though hell with cops and school and fighting and drinking, we would still laugh and always had really deep talks. The police would bring me home and in an hour we would be talking about how flowers could defy gravity by growing upward and how the branches of a tree were really just sunlight roots.
Always she was excited about books and wanting me to read. Every week she would rave about a new book and tried to get me to read it. As a toddler or young child I couldn’t be read to because I was so terribly nervous, but by my teenage years, I could sort of focus and she would read out loud to me then. She read out loud to me perhaps monthly, whenever a book or story really captured her. She made me sit down, shut up, and listen, and it was one of the few commands of hers I obeyed.
Growing up, my house was filled with classical music because she was a classically trained pianist and played daily. She played me Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata when I was 6 or 8 and I remember it made me cry. I had a pretty broad knowledge and appreciation for classical music before I even discovered rocknroll. For some reason, I am extremely glad of this.
My dad left this woman when I was five and I have no respect for him. How could anyone leave this woman? I have no respect for him and not really for any man. He was a piece of shit and did her a favor of course, but still.
My mom was once the strongest person I'd ever known, and I hate time and change and sick and loss and death.
I remember when I was a little kid I was horribly hyperactive. I would only sleep one or two hours a night and she had to hire babysitters to watch me just so she could sleep. The only time I could relax is when she took my shirt off, laid me across her lap, and rubbed my back lightly with the tips of her fingers. I would lay there, still for the first time in hours and hours, almost in a meditative trance. She didn’t do it often because usually she couldn’t catch me.
I remember when I was a teenager and putting her though hell with cops and school and fighting and drinking, we would still laugh and always had really deep talks. The police would bring me home and in an hour we would be talking about how flowers could defy gravity by growing upward and how the branches of a tree were really just sunlight roots.
Always she was excited about books and wanting me to read. Every week she would rave about a new book and tried to get me to read it. As a toddler or young child I couldn’t be read to because I was so terribly nervous, but by my teenage years, I could sort of focus and she would read out loud to me then. She read out loud to me perhaps monthly, whenever a book or story really captured her. She made me sit down, shut up, and listen, and it was one of the few commands of hers I obeyed.
Growing up, my house was filled with classical music because she was a classically trained pianist and played daily. She played me Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata when I was 6 or 8 and I remember it made me cry. I had a pretty broad knowledge and appreciation for classical music before I even discovered rocknroll. For some reason, I am extremely glad of this.
My dad left this woman when I was five and I have no respect for him. How could anyone leave this woman? I have no respect for him and not really for any man. He was a piece of shit and did her a favor of course, but still.
My mom was once the strongest person I'd ever known, and I hate time and change and sick and loss and death.
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