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sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
 
Twenty-Seventh Entry
Tags: family friends love night supper life


Champagne used to be her signature drink but as she grew older,
she switched to thick cherry-colored wines with a cedar smell.
Her favorite idea was that of passionate freedom, but she soon realized
she was no Antoinette.

Each day gets harder without Harry. I'll look around the house, wondering where he is, needing him for some sort of support. It's not the children that make me feel trapped, but just the very essence of being in a house that I used to think was going to be temporary. During naptime, I become incredibly lonely and almost start to panic underneath all the silence. At least when the children are up, I am busy with them, nurturing them, caring what they think and feel. When I finally face myself in the silence of a still house, I realize that something is terribly wrong with the way I feel about my life. It isn't that I don't love it while it's happening, it's just that when I stop, I don't know where I am in relation to my destiny.

I left the children with Rev and a sitter today, and went to see my friend's photography show in the city. She was incredibly excited, and when I met her at the door to the warehouse, she was flushed and smiling with a glass of wine in her hand. Most of her pieces were modern; cars with different types of stylistic deformations, and critiques of industrialized society. But I was struck with this one older woman in a corner, who stayed close by her display all night. She had pictures from her travels in India, Morocco, China, Guatemala, and Greece. There were women and children all looking sullenly into the camera, or happily playing by a school. Most of them were poverty-ridden. She told me stories that I would have loved to have written down. She and I hit it off, and she said to me, You have an old soul for someone so young. What are you doing trapped here? She knew nothing about my background. I laughed it off and talked to her about my love of culture and travelling. I drank most of a bottle of wine by myself.

I went outside halfway through for some fresh air. I hailed a taxi and payed an extroadinary amount of money for a ride to "Edward's." He had been reading and when he saw me at the door he smiled. What do you find unbearable now? he asked, kissing me softly and letting me in. He took my hair and shook it away from my face. My cheeks were red, my lips tasted like wine. I opened my mouth to speak, but instead, turned to the nearest wall and hit it with my fist as hard as I could. I hit it again and screamed until I was sitting on the floor, tears on my face, him beside me, not saying a word, only holding me close to him. You needed that, he said, and lead me to the couch. I cried, not because of the alcohol or because I find anything wrong with my life, but just because this is my life.

I'm stuck here forever and will never help the world, I said to him. He laughed softly and stroked my forehead. You are still an idealistic teenager, he answered. You will soon realize that by living and existing you have helped the world plenty. My second nervous breakdown in a month, I said, chuckling to myself. Not so many for someone with as much stress and as much idealism as you, he answered, soothingly. I wanted him more than anyone in the world then. I miss my husband, I told him. Do you ever miss me that way? he asked. No, I answered. But I do miss you in other ways. I am not Harry, he said. No, I answered, but you are "Edward." I cannot have life without either of you. I stayed at his house until midnight and then went back home.

Rev looked at me strangely as I came in. What's it? he said. You well? I realized that I was born to be a photographer, I joked. Don't worry, Paige, he said, you have plently of time left. He pecked me on the forehead. Wanna stay up and watch films like we used to? I nodded. I'll make the popcorn, he said.

And here I am at home, still longing for a life and an adventure that is not mine.

Men are selfish, well said, and conceited, and
they hunger for all savory flesh and sinful fruits. A fine way to hook a gold
rain shower.

41 Fates - Get Fortune Told
 
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