There Are None So Blind As Those Who Will Not See. @dalvanderbilt - Tumblr Blog

Depression, my old friend. Its been awhile.

Oh, the nostalgia of Christmas! It's when I wish I had children most. That magic of it all and to be part of it. The child in me loves it so much!

The stranger within

I made it a point not to discuss much about my past. In doing so it has left me feeling as though no one really knows me. But maybe that's also because no one has really taken the time to get to know me.

I think a lot about the past. So much so that I worry that I'm missing out on the present. Though, my day to day is very routine and I go through it very autonomously. I think about random things. Waking from a nap when I was 8 to Mom having Bewitched on TV. Standing in the living room when I was 2 and mom cooking while watching Star Trek. Or the same year summer and mom taking me with her grocery shopping. I was always with mom. I remember most her talking to me like I was a person and she included me in everything. "Should we have TV dinners or meatloaf" while standing in the frozen food aisle. "TV dinners will take about 75 minutes about the same as meatloaf. With the TV dinners I can put them in the oven giving me time to make cookies for dessert. How does that sound?" She would agree and decide without my input. I remember her loading the bags of groceries into the car with me on her hip and her Winston dangling between her pursed lips, the long ash eventually breaking away, splashing onto my leg. She would quickly wipe it away making sure it didn't burn me.

Life was grand for me but it must've been so small for her. Married at 16, divorced at 18, me at 20 and single trying to figure it out while dealing with the death of her father. I never heard her complain. Never heard her cry. Never heard her talk about regret. She just always made plans. Small plans. Should we move to Missouri or stay in California? We'd always eventually leave whether it was East or West.

Mom didn't have much, but our home was always kept, cooked dinners, Walton's or Little House in the evening, the lake or river on weekends or to one of her sister's houses. Our world was small but it was full and perfect.

#home

I woke at 3:30 from an intense dream. I was still weeping. I don't think I had cried so hard in a dream. I dreamt that my grandmother prepared this wonderful thanksgiving dinner and Mom wouldn't go and wouldn't let me either. When I woke I thought about after Mom passed away and finding her diary. I haven't read it all but there was this passage, "out of all my children Dalton has the right to hate me most, but he doesn't. Perhaps he would if he wasn't so logical." I've been thinking about Mom a lot lately. When people are alive we tend to overlook things they may have done or said. It's easier to focus on the good when it happens instead of dwelling on the bad. But when they're gone there's no reason to make excuses for them. But when you don't, you're left with all this unresolve baggage that you knew existed but perhaps were unaware of the significance. I spent the first half of my adult life getting over the choices Mom made. Now I guess I'll spend the last half working through her actions.

I prefer to live in the past. It's predictable.

The road home is the longest when the person you miss the most is no longer there.

#rip mom

It'll never be seen again

I miss you, Mom

#dealing with grief

Winter is coming

Dear Monster, in my head. Please, please let me sleep. I'm so tired.

Sitting With Yesterday

As was yesterday, so is today. I forget about this spot of mine. Sometimes years go by. I don't look back on my posts..for some reason I feel a little haunted by my past. I'm always moving forward but every once in a while I glance back over my shoulder. The idea of what might be approaching from behind scares me. I'm surprised I settled here in Missouri. This place, out of all places, haunts me the most. I hate it and love it. I love the people it holds. But for some reason all those memories are tethered to long drawn cold winters that seem to never end. I remember them as a child the year we lived in Missouri when I was 12. I remember so vividly waking up in the middle of the night and looking out my bedroom window to the frozen field and I touched snow that glistened in the moonlight. I remember the cold weeping through the window and walls and floor. I remember being surrounded by it. This state is a cemetery to me. Like most places I've lived. Remnants of familiar places and half forgotten memories. I miss them, regardless of how little familiarity remains. I miss my Grandma. I remember my earliest memory of her as she rocked me to sleep, her breathing in sync with mine, the steady drum of her heart pounding against my chest, her lips resting against the top of my head and I clutch her hair and shirt. I miss my mom and her tucking me in each night and waking me every morning. She was strong and I felt safe. I miss the past. Not because it was easier but because that is the only place I can go to visit everyone I love.

Last night I saw you and you saw me, smiling, saying my name as though you hadn't seen me in ages. If only it wasn't a dream. Rest in peace, Mom. I love you!

As a teenager I would go up onto the roof of our house with a sleeping bag and lay under the vast night sky. I always loved how quiet the city got but every once in awhile you'd hear a motorcycle drift off into the distance or the sound of a dog barking a few blocks away. Then it would become quiet, the warm breeze blowing through the fronds. Sometimes I'd take the radio with me, listening to that Coast Coast AM where they talk about strange sightings or UFO encounters. Then after the station would play ocean sounds and I'd drift off to sleep, only to wake to the rising sun.

Get news about the weird and bizarre on Coast to Coast AM from radio host George Noory every night!

#silence #peaceful

The stranger in me

I don't know me. I think I've always been this elusive stranger. That at some point in my life I slipped on these shoes that were not mine and I've always felt that at any moment the rightful owner was going to show up and demand them back.

Who am I? Am I anything other than a stranger you happen to glance over at while sitting idle at a traffic light before turning your attention back at your cellphone? Am I anything more than the faceless person who said, "excuse me" as he slipped by in a crowded store? Or that person you casually tossed a smile at as he held open a door for you?

I try to make it a point to smile at everyone. Sometimes, they notice it and they latch on to my eyes with theirs and smile back. And in that fraction of a second I feel noticed. That someone jerked me from the shadows.

I'm always walking in the shadows and as the sun sets, my shadow slowly vanishes.

I always remember winter. Those long, drawn out days that I wish would end. And they do. They always do.

#Youtube

The Things We Forgot

Have you ever been shown a photo and your immediate reaction was, "Oh my god, I totally forgot about that!"? My memory is pretty good. I can recall days going back to just 2 years old. But, I wonder, what about the days I forgot about? Especially my teen years with friends. Ordinary conversations, mundane days of just hanging out to pass the time. That would be so fascinating to be able to recall those days.

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There Are None So Blind As Those Who Will Not See.