It was the 1980s and nothing could ever make us unhappy. We were whole - a family and we celebrated as if the world would never end...at least not for us. Our family was invincible. But, over the horizon lurked a bandit of time and we went down, one by one. Illness, death, growing up, leaving home, natural disasters...tempered by the strength we drew from on another until there were two at Christmas dinner. The last one I would spend with my mother, And then there were none.
I ached, I cried, I tried in vain to start over, but peace never found a new place in my heart.
Every year I hope it will be my last. I am tired and I want to go home with the rest og my loved ones.
My only solace is that one day I will take the Last Train Home and I will be at peace again. With those I love most.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
It was a time of love
It was a time when there was love everywhere. When tables overflowed with cheer and children snuggled up for comfort and warmth. Love permeated everything we did and followed us everywhere we went.
It reverberated through music, it gathered around us whenever we were all together and we all carried pieces home with us in photos and leftover dinners.
While now to lament love lost, I try to revel in Love's memories. Past lives, past embraces and the constant tug at heartstrings when looking back brings a smile or a warmth from within.
Oh, to be a keeper of time and a vessel of all that once was good! We eat the fruit of the past and sustain our lives with its sweet nectar. Awash in the softness of a kiss and embraced in the weightlessness of a hug.
Oh, come back, sweet life! I have missed you. Let it be, my mind says, for it will never return except in dreams. But, I know better. I know that once was will come again and beak me from my earthly bonds. And love will find its way home once more.
© DD Corbitt
It reverberated through music, it gathered around us whenever we were all together and we all carried pieces home with us in photos and leftover dinners.
While now to lament love lost, I try to revel in Love's memories. Past lives, past embraces and the constant tug at heartstrings when looking back brings a smile or a warmth from within.
Oh, to be a keeper of time and a vessel of all that once was good! We eat the fruit of the past and sustain our lives with its sweet nectar. Awash in the softness of a kiss and embraced in the weightlessness of a hug.
Oh, come back, sweet life! I have missed you. Let it be, my mind says, for it will never return except in dreams. But, I know better. I know that once was will come again and beak me from my earthly bonds. And love will find its way home once more.
© DD Corbitt
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Just a rest before I go
I need a rest before I go. It gets so difficult to breathe sometimes. I don't want to be in this time, place or body. I want to sleep. Sunlight hurts. Sounds hurt. My heart hurts. I feel the emptiness of loss and don't know if I can face another long season of ghosts.
It will start again soon. The noise and the crowds and the dates. I have accumulated numbers in my head that all have to do with loss. They chime in my head as a never ending reminder of each chunk taken from my soul. I thought by now they would have been replaced.
Can it really be that the years have passed so quickly that the wounds are still gaping? How I long for the ability to go outside and feel, with great abandon, the breeze upon my skin again. I don't want it to hurt anymore. I want to be whole again.
I want to stop hearing the swoosh and hum of an oxygen generator reverberating in my ears marking the continuation of time like the silent sand in an hourglass. It tolls not for me, but yet it does. It slowly marks the passage of time until...
I am alone again.
I just want to rest. For a minute or two. Under the banyan tree safe from the sun and hiding in myself. I am invisible.
I am safe. For a minute or two...or a lifetime.
© DD Corbitt
It will start again soon. The noise and the crowds and the dates. I have accumulated numbers in my head that all have to do with loss. They chime in my head as a never ending reminder of each chunk taken from my soul. I thought by now they would have been replaced.Can it really be that the years have passed so quickly that the wounds are still gaping? How I long for the ability to go outside and feel, with great abandon, the breeze upon my skin again. I don't want it to hurt anymore. I want to be whole again.
I want to stop hearing the swoosh and hum of an oxygen generator reverberating in my ears marking the continuation of time like the silent sand in an hourglass. It tolls not for me, but yet it does. It slowly marks the passage of time until...
I am alone again.
I just want to rest. For a minute or two. Under the banyan tree safe from the sun and hiding in myself. I am invisible.
I am safe. For a minute or two...or a lifetime.
© DD Corbitt
Saturday, September 29, 2012
The Island in my Mind
Sometimes it's so hard to deal with changes. I can walk the streets I trod long ago and shake my head at what it has become. It's loud, it's crowded, it's paved and repaved.
So much is missing. No shrimp boats, no houseboats, no place to camp on the beach. Everything has a steep price and there isn't any character left. Just avoid it and go home and safeguard the memories.
And then, by happenstance, I find myself riding the familiar roads to a destination I loathe. It's not easy to get lost on this road. It is easy to get swallowed in memories - good and bad. From the redesigned and repaved road to Alabama Jacks. The memory of Alice's crab cakes (which she gave me the recipe to so many years ago). The bridge over the Sound and into the mangroves that give way to the bustle of traffic that is Key Largo.
Soon to pass my old home on the water in Tavernier and places I worked and lived. Fought off demons and found resolve. But it's a little farther down this ocean highway I can really feel the tug of sweet nostalgia pulling me South. The bridges get longer. I remember the old ones that have long ago surrendered to time, neglect and the elements.
And the water. Blue on my left and green on my right. Deep ocean out there. Shallow gulf over here. The stench of low tide slips over the senses like an old, wet blanket. Fish and Sargasso and mangrove gas and wet lobster traps.
The traffic thins for a while and the sights become once again familiar. Motels that refused to change and fewer roadside circus attractions. Small town America on the tip of the continent. And it all happens again.
The traffic, the noise, the changed scenery and the road constriction that has not ended in 10 or more years. Fighting cars for a space to lead my steel steed to rest. It has been a long, hot trip. But there it is...
A small street with small gingerbread houses carefully preserved and lovingly restored. It's a nice place to stop. And all the odors of the highway are replaced by honeysuckle and jasmine. A rooming house on the edge of the world and a garden in which to rest. The sun plays on the deck of a small pool of warm water.
Out there the streets are choked with tourists and locals trying to make a living in a place they can't afford to live anymore. Some of it is familiar and some of it is just plain scary. But here I am insulated. And I can hear the voices of ghosts that linger and hover over old haunts. Go out and play, my friends and I will be right here.
It's a small slice of what paradise used to be. I'll stay right here. My soul needs to soak up old Key West.
© DD Corbitt
So much is missing. No shrimp boats, no houseboats, no place to camp on the beach. Everything has a steep price and there isn't any character left. Just avoid it and go home and safeguard the memories.
And then, by happenstance, I find myself riding the familiar roads to a destination I loathe. It's not easy to get lost on this road. It is easy to get swallowed in memories - good and bad. From the redesigned and repaved road to Alabama Jacks. The memory of Alice's crab cakes (which she gave me the recipe to so many years ago). The bridge over the Sound and into the mangroves that give way to the bustle of traffic that is Key Largo.
Soon to pass my old home on the water in Tavernier and places I worked and lived. Fought off demons and found resolve. But it's a little farther down this ocean highway I can really feel the tug of sweet nostalgia pulling me South. The bridges get longer. I remember the old ones that have long ago surrendered to time, neglect and the elements.
And the water. Blue on my left and green on my right. Deep ocean out there. Shallow gulf over here. The stench of low tide slips over the senses like an old, wet blanket. Fish and Sargasso and mangrove gas and wet lobster traps.
The traffic thins for a while and the sights become once again familiar. Motels that refused to change and fewer roadside circus attractions. Small town America on the tip of the continent. And it all happens again.The traffic, the noise, the changed scenery and the road constriction that has not ended in 10 or more years. Fighting cars for a space to lead my steel steed to rest. It has been a long, hot trip. But there it is...
A small street with small gingerbread houses carefully preserved and lovingly restored. It's a nice place to stop. And all the odors of the highway are replaced by honeysuckle and jasmine. A rooming house on the edge of the world and a garden in which to rest. The sun plays on the deck of a small pool of warm water.
Out there the streets are choked with tourists and locals trying to make a living in a place they can't afford to live anymore. Some of it is familiar and some of it is just plain scary. But here I am insulated. And I can hear the voices of ghosts that linger and hover over old haunts. Go out and play, my friends and I will be right here.
It's a small slice of what paradise used to be. I'll stay right here. My soul needs to soak up old Key West.
© DD Corbitt
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Back Again...Darker than Ever
It has been so very long since I have laid down fresh prose and the excuses abound. Too busy, nothing to say, why the hell am I doing this to begin with? Truth is, I have been buried in the blackness of my depression again. I swear I won't let it get the best of me, but then, something happens: Night falls, someone gets sick, I feel disengaged. That's when I plummet.
So this plummet is because I face losing another spouse. I face the nagging every day challenges that, to others go unnoticed but, to me may as well be Mt. Everest. I go to the store fearful of another panic attack that pushes me to the corner of the pharmacy where normal sick people wait for prescriptions, but I hide.
Why did nobody ever notice how much I was dying? Little by little. Brain cell, by brain cell.
Sometimes I want to put myself out of my - and everyone else's misery. Sometimes I want to scream,"We, the depressed, bipolar and mentally ill need help! We need to be recognized and understood. We need to be treated as human with an affliction. We need time off work. Time to disappear. Time to see our therapists. WE NEED TO BE HEARD!!!! or we will go away."
It hurts to laugh, but I do it so others won't see the tears. It hurts to go out, but I go through the motions so others won't notice. Sometimes it just hurts.
So, for a while, I'll be back to my writing. Starting a new book. Maybe that will ease the pain. For a while. Thanks for reading.
© DD Corbitt
So this plummet is because I face losing another spouse. I face the nagging every day challenges that, to others go unnoticed but, to me may as well be Mt. Everest. I go to the store fearful of another panic attack that pushes me to the corner of the pharmacy where normal sick people wait for prescriptions, but I hide.
Why did nobody ever notice how much I was dying? Little by little. Brain cell, by brain cell.
Sometimes I want to put myself out of my - and everyone else's misery. Sometimes I want to scream,"We, the depressed, bipolar and mentally ill need help! We need to be recognized and understood. We need to be treated as human with an affliction. We need time off work. Time to disappear. Time to see our therapists. WE NEED TO BE HEARD!!!! or we will go away."
It hurts to laugh, but I do it so others won't see the tears. It hurts to go out, but I go through the motions so others won't notice. Sometimes it just hurts.
So, for a while, I'll be back to my writing. Starting a new book. Maybe that will ease the pain. For a while. Thanks for reading.
© DD Corbitt
Sunday, January 15, 2012
From The World According to Me:
Life is a bungee jump except the first leap is not of your own choice. The only thing you can do after that is continue bouncing up and down until it's over and hope the cord isn't to long for obvious reasons. Come to think of it, short isn't good either.
The point is to remember that the ride doesn't last long. So face the world with open arms and love one another. Don't hit your head under the bridge over petty differences. You may not get a second chance to bounce back to the safety of a person who loves you!
Oh, eventually the ride stops and you'll be somewhere in the middle swinging at the end of a giant rubber band. Take the time to look around and realize just how not scary it was after all. Don't forget the fact that you are finishing just as you began... upside down, a little wet and tethered!
What a ride!!!
© DD Corbitt
Life is a bungee jump except the first leap is not of your own choice. The only thing you can do after that is continue bouncing up and down until it's over and hope the cord isn't to long for obvious reasons. Come to think of it, short isn't good either.
The point is to remember that the ride doesn't last long. So face the world with open arms and love one another. Don't hit your head under the bridge over petty differences. You may not get a second chance to bounce back to the safety of a person who loves you!
Oh, eventually the ride stops and you'll be somewhere in the middle swinging at the end of a giant rubber band. Take the time to look around and realize just how not scary it was after all. Don't forget the fact that you are finishing just as you began... upside down, a little wet and tethered!
What a ride!!!
© DD Corbitt
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