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CONFOUNDED
Tuesday Aug. 25, 2015
I’ve tried to recall my feelings – growing up and as adult – toward my parents.
Obviously, we are all different. Just as our parents are/were different. Mine were. My feelings for them were. My behavior different. Feedback from each, different.
Maybe it was too much? Too soon? There have been sporadic attempts at re-starting communication – a few emails, texts, phone calls. Still, she’s not ready to restart, not ready to resume. Interesting but unimportant question – if we’d met would I have done as much thinking about our issues of conflict, history and mystery? Would I have given as much thought as I have?
Scheduled meeting last week.
Other party backed out.
I showed up, hoping …
Change of heart did not happen.
Still, I was there. Needed to be there. Not for one-upping. In case she changed her mind.
Alone, without control, awaits second-guessing, tip-toing father whose daughter isn’t talking. Been in this mode too long – silent about my marvelous second child because I’m in the darkness. Knowing only that she is alive and well, on outside of her life too long to even pretend to know what is going on. To say I miss her is a degree of understatement I lack words to describe.
Things work out, or not, in real time reality. Anything else is my fiction. My hope. Myopic view is not because there is too much thinking in this potion, but because there is too much emotion in it. Wrestling reality, not some demon, playing the other side of every point and counterpoint, after a while black is white, white is gray … debate rages on, in silence.
This argument in my head, like playing both sides of a checker game, turning board around, playing the other side – trying to see things from her side.
I can’t resume something I never stopped. Like breathing. I don’t wake up to resume breathing because I never stopped. I think loving your kids is like that. We never have to resume because we never stop …
Mark Kolke
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: 12C/54F, smoke-hazy (from BC forest fires), dead quiet, dead calm, Gusta returning to normal mode though she like to poop in the most dim-lit (means vewwy dark at 5:00AM) places, we wake up as the city does … slowly
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