| Biographical Non-Fiction posted December 6, 2023 | Chapters: |
...15 16 -17- 18... 
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Normal life while waiting, I wonder
A chapter in the book Spectre
The Quiet
by Lea Tonin1
Do your dance of circumstance
Plead no more from me
Beat your horse it's dead of course
Blind your eyes to see
Make your move which has no groove
Your path's gone to ground
Filled with mud deceitful sludge
starving heart be found
Volcanoes rise, purpose dies
face of kingly power.
These many years of acid tears
Absent is your hour
************************************present
I feel as if the wide dragnet is finally shrinking in size.
The circle getting smaller and smaller when once it was the play pen of my mother and stepfather. I practice the hurry up and wait game, while I gather my ducks and line them up in a row. Except that I'm pretty sure that one of them is a pigeon.
I hear the old voices in my head, a combination of words lending my parents voices to the commitee of assholes that's reconvened within.
Berating me with their eyes, they're saying,
"How could you do this? How could you air our dirty laundry like that? How could you put it out there for everyone to read?"
The old voices singing the same song round and round in a crazy carousel while the committee does a square dance, all against the inside of my skull.
Then I come back to myself and I think, "How? Sixteen years on the end of fist that's how."
Today we are back in the valley hit by typical rainforest country weather. A constant, steady drizzle we are used to in this part of the world.
Row, row, row your boat gently down the street...
"It's raining until May and that's the weather."
I figure the weather man can take the time off until then. Lol
Rain does make the world smell and fresh again, especially when you live in a city in the lower mainland where lots of people drive like maniacs everybody's busy and lots of carbon emissions.
I feel a bit introspective today. A little bit of inward thinking, I guess you might call it.
Waiting for all the ducks to quit goofing off and line up again. I dream up all kinds of scenarios.
Although I must wait in the here and now, we'll see what we can do about waiting back then....
There's only one way to accomplish that and it's to sit down in front of my PC. Touch upon it's flashing curser and carry on....
*****************************Past
We spent the morning playing some games with the children, which they seemed to enjoy.
There was a bit of a language barrier but, Mom did her best to translate.
I attempted to teach the young ones how to play 'Fish'.
Since they weren't too far into elementory school, it was a little bit difficult but, instead of calling a number, I showed them the card.
I kept saying go fish, Mom would translate, then they'd look around the room crinkling their noses trying to smell the fish. It was pretty comical really.
It was nice to see Mrs. D smile even though her throat still hurt.
Every once in a while though, we'd hear the rumble of an engine go by the house. Mrs. D would stiffen up and would looking with moon eyes, watching the door, waiting for it to open.
When the sound rumbled away, she would loosen up again. I knew this feeling of trepidation. The fear of waiting for the axe to fall.
I hated it, and I was pretty sure she hated it too. Living in fear keeps a person on alert round the clock leaving a them shaking.
Although, no way to live, the senses are highly active, highly in tune with every thing around. Every sound, every change in light, the change in pressure, the creak on the stairs, the turn of the handle and finally, the shape in the doorway.
I sometimes think we know it before the abuser does. I understood everything she was thinking and feeling along with the indecision she was going through.
Betrayal is hardest thing. Abuse is a true betrayer of trust, honor and dependability. Especially with someone who's supposed to love her and protect her, not be her perpetrator.
This frustration is hard too. I knew all those things and more. I understood the trepidation and nervousness she was experiencing.
Take the ability of hyper vigilance honed over time and you get awareness.
Imagine the mind who has such angst and scared of someone else. In that situation, the tremendous advantage of the ability of super sensibilities and deep knowing can have.
Although not always, it can and sometimes does, save your life.
I wanted to tell her that. I didn't know it until I finally made the connection myself. I always thought I was just afraid. I wanted to tell her to trust herself to trust her instincts and never hesitate.
She turned on some cartoons for the kids and returned to the kitchen table.
With a sigh she looked at me with her liquid, sad eyes. Quietly, I pointed to the scar on my lip where my tooth had been shoved through.
Then I showed her the scar under my chin from a push that landed me fave first on a fireplace.
I showed her the scar on the bridge of my nose where a beer can had stuck right in the bone after a hard toss.
I showed her all these scars and then produced a fist and put it under my chin.
She came to realize that I knew what she was going through. I had lived through it too but, not from a spouse.
From a stepfather.
I saw tears come to her shining brown eyes which she desperately shook off.
For the remainder of the afternoon, the kids played quietly. Occasionally they would watch the TV.
I tried my best to help her in the kitchen but, had no clue what she was cooking. I knew it smelled interesting though.
She just smiled at me and said she would call me when it's time. I took that as my queue to go downstairs and give her a little bit of space.
There was no sign of Mr. D that night or the next night for that matter but on the third night...
I heard a woman weeping....
*****************************present
The tension of those two nights I remember, did not afford much rest.
That's the thing though. I recall everything. I remember all of it.
Everyday that impacted my memory. I remember it.
Same memory I took with me in my professional life. I also have it in my comedic one too. I can remember thousands of jokes. One merely has to pick a subject.
I very often wish I didn't remember everything. My one sister can count her memories on her hand which I wonder if it isn't a better idea, and my younger sister was rescued by her father with many of her own scars to bear.
But someone needs to speak, I'm that someone. So I'm going to keep on riding the emotional roller coaster, knowing that there's a means to an end.
I thank you all... at hard times, I feel the presence of acceptance and belief. Better than any gift, any miracle, that could have been given.
Do your dance of circumstance
Plead no more from me
Beat your horse it's dead of course
Blind your eyes to see
Make your move which has no groove
Your path's gone to ground
Filled with mud deceitful sludge
starving heart be found
Volcanoes rise, purpose dies
face of kingly power.
These many years of acid tears
Absent is your hour
************************************present
I feel as if the wide dragnet is finally shrinking in size.
The circle getting smaller and smaller when once it was the play pen of my mother and stepfather. I practice the hurry up and wait game, while I gather my ducks and line them up in a row. Except that I'm pretty sure that one of them is a pigeon.
I hear the old voices in my head, a combination of words lending my parents voices to the commitee of assholes that's reconvened within.
Berating me with their eyes, they're saying,
"How could you do this? How could you air our dirty laundry like that? How could you put it out there for everyone to read?"
The old voices singing the same song round and round in a crazy carousel while the committee does a square dance, all against the inside of my skull.
Then I come back to myself and I think, "How? Sixteen years on the end of fist that's how."
Today we are back in the valley hit by typical rainforest country weather. A constant, steady drizzle we are used to in this part of the world.
Row, row, row your boat gently down the street...
"It's raining until May and that's the weather."
I figure the weather man can take the time off until then. Lol
Rain does make the world smell and fresh again, especially when you live in a city in the lower mainland where lots of people drive like maniacs everybody's busy and lots of carbon emissions.
I feel a bit introspective today. A little bit of inward thinking, I guess you might call it.
Waiting for all the ducks to quit goofing off and line up again. I dream up all kinds of scenarios.
Although I must wait in the here and now, we'll see what we can do about waiting back then....
There's only one way to accomplish that and it's to sit down in front of my PC. Touch upon it's flashing curser and carry on....
*****************************Past
We spent the morning playing some games with the children, which they seemed to enjoy.
There was a bit of a language barrier but, Mom did her best to translate.
I attempted to teach the young ones how to play 'Fish'.
Since they weren't too far into elementory school, it was a little bit difficult but, instead of calling a number, I showed them the card.
I kept saying go fish, Mom would translate, then they'd look around the room crinkling their noses trying to smell the fish. It was pretty comical really.
It was nice to see Mrs. D smile even though her throat still hurt.
Every once in a while though, we'd hear the rumble of an engine go by the house. Mrs. D would stiffen up and would looking with moon eyes, watching the door, waiting for it to open.
When the sound rumbled away, she would loosen up again. I knew this feeling of trepidation. The fear of waiting for the axe to fall.
I hated it, and I was pretty sure she hated it too. Living in fear keeps a person on alert round the clock leaving a them shaking.
Although, no way to live, the senses are highly active, highly in tune with every thing around. Every sound, every change in light, the change in pressure, the creak on the stairs, the turn of the handle and finally, the shape in the doorway.
I sometimes think we know it before the abuser does. I understood everything she was thinking and feeling along with the indecision she was going through.
Betrayal is hardest thing. Abuse is a true betrayer of trust, honor and dependability. Especially with someone who's supposed to love her and protect her, not be her perpetrator.
This frustration is hard too. I knew all those things and more. I understood the trepidation and nervousness she was experiencing.
Take the ability of hyper vigilance honed over time and you get awareness.
Imagine the mind who has such angst and scared of someone else. In that situation, the tremendous advantage of the ability of super sensibilities and deep knowing can have.
Although not always, it can and sometimes does, save your life.
I wanted to tell her that. I didn't know it until I finally made the connection myself. I always thought I was just afraid. I wanted to tell her to trust herself to trust her instincts and never hesitate.
She turned on some cartoons for the kids and returned to the kitchen table.
With a sigh she looked at me with her liquid, sad eyes. Quietly, I pointed to the scar on my lip where my tooth had been shoved through.
Then I showed her the scar under my chin from a push that landed me fave first on a fireplace.
I showed her the scar on the bridge of my nose where a beer can had stuck right in the bone after a hard toss.
I showed her all these scars and then produced a fist and put it under my chin.
She came to realize that I knew what she was going through. I had lived through it too but, not from a spouse.
From a stepfather.
I saw tears come to her shining brown eyes which she desperately shook off.
For the remainder of the afternoon, the kids played quietly. Occasionally they would watch the TV.
I tried my best to help her in the kitchen but, had no clue what she was cooking. I knew it smelled interesting though.
She just smiled at me and said she would call me when it's time. I took that as my queue to go downstairs and give her a little bit of space.
There was no sign of Mr. D that night or the next night for that matter but on the third night...
I heard a woman weeping....
*****************************present
The tension of those two nights I remember, did not afford much rest.
That's the thing though. I recall everything. I remember all of it.
Everyday that impacted my memory. I remember it.
Same memory I took with me in my professional life. I also have it in my comedic one too. I can remember thousands of jokes. One merely has to pick a subject.
I very often wish I didn't remember everything. My one sister can count her memories on her hand which I wonder if it isn't a better idea, and my younger sister was rescued by her father with many of her own scars to bear.
But someone needs to speak, I'm that someone. So I'm going to keep on riding the emotional roller coaster, knowing that there's a means to an end.
I thank you all... at hard times, I feel the presence of acceptance and belief. Better than any gift, any miracle, that could have been given.
 Recognized |
Is this chapter is part of an auto bio called Spectre book two in the series. But one is called ghost both can be found in my portfolio. Should you wish to read a word of caution, some chapters are difficult to absorb. Reader discretion is advised.
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