Fragile Hold

Looking back into my mind I see the reflections of who I used to be.
The painted rooms filled with all I have seen and done.
The childhood room with faded, peeling walls still filled with innocent thoughts.
Looking in is like looking through frosted glass in the clouds.
Occasions of clarity break the visual muffled silence.
Images and pieces of memories still rest neatly on the shelves of my years.
The alley behind our home in Baltimore.
The garden at my grandfather’s home.
The taste of the wooden crib on my newly emerging teeth.
The used and worn but loving gift from a babysitter.
Youth in the next room throwing tantrums and fits, growing.
The room unsettled and littered with deeper closets to explore.
Stains of blood soaked experience and cloudless skies.
First crush, first kiss, first dreams.
Confused sheets half covering long unused thoughts.
Freedom and independence etched on the doorways of each new year.
Mature and jaded rooms added hastily to each passing year.
Dark creaky stairwells to places better off forgotten.
The places one never wishes to visit alone.
Love covers the walls yet fades and crumbles to the floor.
The halls of memories are endless and unsorted.
Pieces of past and present mingle in the air of fading memories.
A room fit for an adult sits incomplete.
The smell of newness confuse the sight of painted over past.
The corners of each turn stained with the finger prints of all my years.

This fragile hold a keep of flesh and bone is my life.

A Mother’s Love

New skin slowly grows over aged memories.
Thin veils of translucent comfort.
A puny defense holding the moments in their place.
Cutting blows of emotion.
Tearing, cutting and pulling at the infant layers.
The fragile roots of calm slowly give.
Stresses become fissures.
The painful memories flow freely.

Cry more tears to sooth the open wounds.
Like glue they pull and fill the voids.
Arms reach out.
Gentle touches catch the falling pieces.
Love binds the broken moments.
And healing begins again.

The Blue Fairy

The greatest powers in the universe cannot hold back tears that need to flow free. Mine had been building for a few weeks. I did not cry long or particularly hard. This time I had my mother their to catch me. So many times I have cried in the last 2 years that I wished mom was there. Today she was because I am home for the first time in many years. Today I cried and All I needed was a catalyst.

The Blue Fairy pried the memories from my mind and the tears soon followed. As I watched the movie AI with mom, I realized I had forgotten about the Blue Fairy. The Blue Fairy was to grant David is sole wish in life; to made into a real boy so that he could return home so his mother would love him always. Towards the end of the movie the key to my tears would soon appear. As David steers the craft too the bottom of the ocean where what seems a blue fair stands silently in the ruins of humanity, he finds her and asks her “Blue Fairy, can you make me a real boy?”

The darkened cell in which a certain memory lay captive, silent and seemingly dormant was released. And David became trapped in a prison forever just out of reach of the Blue Fairy to perpetually pray to her to make him real and to be loved.

I too had my Blue Fairy as a child. Endlessly praying to release me from my own prison and to make me “real” too. For me what seems a lifetime, over 30 years, since then my wish was finally granted. But it was not the Blue Fairy to release me from my struggle to “become real.” David’s wish too was granted in a way after 2000 years. And like me the Blue Fairy was not the one to satisfy his dream.

In the end it is not important how each of our wishes came true. It is only fair to say that they did in our own important way. Not the exact way each of us had hoped and dreamed for so so very long. But in others equally as beautiful.

I am not a robot. I have always been real. Just not as real as I was meant to be, but I am now. I have also known unwavering love from my mother. In the end David did too even as she passed in her sleep as he held her hand. The strange irony of standing in the doorway of my bathroom as the tears came before heading off to bed, my head on my mother’s shoulder, struck me even as I cried and told her briefly of my Blue Fairy.