Daily Post prompt: Feed your senses.
Mostly I’m a contented sleeper; I fall asleep easily at night and wake happily enough in the morning. But sometimes – this morning for instance – I wake with a faint shadow of unease, apprehension, something that makes my breath catch and my heart sink a little into my stomach.
When I open my eyes, I know what this feeling is. I see an empty space beside me. I see smooth sheets and pillow; lacking the creases and hollow made by my partner’s head.
I’ve woken up alone twenty out of the last thirty mornings and I will wake up alone for the next eight too. Then my partner of twenty five years will be home – for a while. Maybe a week or two, perhaps more.
He travels because his job requires him to. Although this last month has been worse than most, he still spends about a third of the year sleeping in other beds in other countries –places where I am not.
It’s been like this for a long time. Early in our relationship I travelled – though not nearly as often or for such long periods as he does now. But since our son was a toddler, my partner’s job has taken him away from us so much that I think our son’s school believes the child is being raised by a single parent.
Mostly I don’t think too much about this. I’m accustomed to friends and family opening conversations with “where is he this week?” or “is he in the country at the moment?” I’ve even got used to our son asking the same question. Continue reading
Sometimes I think I’ve let someone else record the soundtrack to my life. Sometimes I look back and think I wasn’t in charge here and I don’t really like the result.
But I’m changing that. I’m taking charge, writing my own script, recording my own soundtrack – performing from my soul. I’m doing things that nourish me and make me happy. That includes listening to music more, acknowledging how much it affects me and letting it happen. Sometimes it’s sad music, but more often these days I’m choosing a soundtrack that lifts me and makes me smile. Makes me dance even!
September was released when I was an angsty, pretentious teenager listening to SuperTramp and Black Sabbath. I didn’t like funk or disco. I didn’t like music that just made you happy. And although I’ve mellowed and have probably enjoyed Earth, Wind and Fire in the intervening years, I didn’t really “get it” until I saw the French film The Intouchables.
I’ve spent years choosing not to listen to music – afraid of how it makes me feel. It’s meant that my life has either – like I said above – been lived with someone else’s soundtrack, or more often, in silence.
If I’d written a response to the Daily Prompt yesterday, there would have been a different song in my head – this one:
This is the song that plays over my moments of blackness, of doubt and of grief. And you know, I’m ok with that. I’m ok because I can acknowledge those moments and still find beauty in them – the beauty of Jessye Norman’s voice and Henry Purcell’s music.
I don’t write poetry much any more – probably since I found an old notebook from when I was an angsty teenager.
But then I bought some magnetic poetry – the Shakespeare edition, the food edition and the music edition for a bit of variety. Because it’s just taking words that are already there and playing around with them, it doesn’t feel like writing poetry; it just feels like having fun.
this luscious symphony
Of pink lust
and drunken lover's grace
And sing melancholy
from sweet jam tongue
For there is much ado about trifle