a heart is captive

a heart is captive

Monday, March 5, 2012


I managed to salvage some of the day. I packed /finished 5 boxes. 3 small book size and just the taping of two large ones. 
What makes this move so difficult is there is no one left behind to say good-bye to. No one to miss, write post cards to on the way or send Christmas Cards to after I am moved in. No one left here in Texas but people I pay.
Mother is dead these 6 years and the only reason I have been stuck here for so long. I once had a sister. I would like to say I loved her and I miss her, but I didn’t and I don’t. She is dead as far as my life is concerned. So I pack up the brittle memories that still sting a bit and make the heart heavy. No regrets to leave except the cost of living, but it is also the cost  of living here, that is why I need to get out, to leave, to not let the door knob hit me in the butt. I was going to go through the few things left from my mother and repack them but what is the use? I will tote them to Maine and unpack them there; maybe get an old trunk to put those old things in and store it in the attic. I never had an attic before and these will make interesting things for some one 30 years from now to look through after I am gone. I will put my diaries I there, too. I look at the stuff hat still needs to be packed and it is not that much, really. I moved away in 2004 and never came back, really. I commuted back and forth to my home in Canada spent most of the time there until I got enough days to become a citizen. I left here behind long ago. I just did not know that it would be the last time I would see my mother. We talked nearly everyday, but I never saw her grow frail in the year I was away, never heard her complain about how the person who shares my DNA with Mom was treating her. The whole sordid episode is mostly behind me and I am grateful for modern medication! A broken heart and broken spirit takes a long time to mend but the scares are deep and they ache when the weather changes.

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