I wanted an escape. I chose a connection. Spending time with my daughter. Skiing. New Mexico, Colorado, Texas. Road trip with very few incidents.
Plop. I’m back in Austin, and I’m hungry for a partner all of a sudden. I seemed to have had some lonely moments along the road, thinking about this very moment. Back at home. Writing. Sad. Longing.
The first part is true. I am home and writing. I am not sad. I have a longing, but it’s more of a hunger than a need for survival. I learned that even my daughter can yell at me. I don’t have to go away. I don’t have to change. And, I really don’t have to allow anyone to yell at me. We’ll talk later.
The cats were my biggest longing. I missed them. At one point, I dreamed of rubbing Hunter’s belly while I was sleeping in Colorado. And the entire trip caused me to ponder my goals and directions.
I had my perfect traveling companion. Yet, not. I began to see how I wanted a story to share, but was my daughter fulfilling that need? Somewhat, it’s the memory of the event that’s the bonus. A glow that can be felt many years later. A crossing. A long drive in the Colorado dessert at the sun was going down and I was dj-ing some solid music. Magic. A moment I already cherish.
I’m also glad my daughter is staying at her mom’s house. There were some realizations that came to light for me on this trip, all tied to the graduation slip on up to yelling at me in the car about my driving or not listening to her. Hmm. I’ve been in this movie in a partnership and it’s not a winning combination. With my daughter the best move was to remain neutral. I don’t need to discipline my daughter now, or complain about her being entitled. Um, yeah. I can see that now. Some how it’s easier to shine a light on my troubled son as the result of poor parenting. But my golden child is a bit of a manipulator. She wants it how she wants it. And there was an infinite distance between her yelling at me and being able to say she’s sorry. She will never be sorry for yelling at me. Yet, she prides herself and our relationship in that I’ve never yelled at her. Um, did I spoil the girl?
Just as I understood my daughter’s behavior toward me was more about her, I began to pull back my observation a bit. What is this mythical companion I seek? A sexual goddess? An artist? Someone who challenges my mind as well as my stamina.
I wonder about the lone wolf artists, successful enough at some point to devote 100% of their time to their craft. Is that what I want to be? Like a monk, devoted to my writing? Yikes! Okay, I need a reset here. Yes, I am looking to gain time to write, rather than fuck up my schedule with more expenses and the need for a FTE. Write. Write like the wind.
I noticed in the mirror this morning, no matter how chipper I am feeling, I looked my age. It’s okay. I earned each of my 62 years. It seems like an impossible gap sometimes, thinking about what I really want in a partner. Am I setting myself up for loss and loneliness? Does that somehow give me more time to write? How can I balance the two needs: alone time vs. partnered time?
Exodus: > next | index
