Saturday, September 25, 2010

Some "Me" Time

Spend most of today and yesterday staring and looking at what once made me whole. Looked at what made me smile with joy and at times, full of anger when we lose a game. As I stared at the middle of the field and looked at the field goals, I could hear the crowd, wild on their feet. I could hear the cheerleaders screaming on the top of their lungs. I could hear my teammates shouting both praise and threats to each other. And in ways, I think those treats go farther than the praise ever did. I stared in the field and for a moment I was happy then an amount of pain flow through my body. It was as if someone wiped all the fans, the cheerleaders, and teammates away. And I was alone again out in that field.

Every so often, it'd hurt.
And at times, it hurts all the time.

It hurts when I wonder what it'd be like to run around the corner.
It hurts when I think about where I would be today if I enlisted in the Army.
It hurts when I see my friends in 'em JROTC/ROTC uniform and PT uniform and wonder what it'd be like to be 'em right now.

I hurt cause I envy 'em.
I hurt cause I wish I can be 'em.
I hurt cause I am jealous of 'em.

But that don't mean I don't wish 'em well.
Good luck and good huntin', Midshipmen Harting

I sat there, stared, and I thought a lot about everything.

Monday's Mom's birthday. I sat in the quiet and I could hear her voice in the bleachers, cheering me on. She was a Southern girl and loved football and never played a doll. I sat there, and I could hear her voice, cheering me on to run that extra yard. I can see her run down the bleachers, too, just to give me a big hug no matter how well or horrible I did. I can feel her kiss me on the cheeks saying, "You did a great job and I am so proud of you."

I sat there and sang her Happy Birthday.

I got home earlier this evening with Mom's favorite cake, a small piece of Tiramisu, and while Sarah sat on my lap, we sang her a Happy Birthday song again. Then I told Sarah about Mom.

I'm just making the best of this week.
And the week after that.
And the week after that.
And for as long as I can.

I love you, Mama.


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