11:39 p.m. - Saturday, Jul. 03, 2010
I will write you letters . . .
I love warm summer evenings when the upstairs smells like fresh air, clean soap, and Dad . . .in his shirt and tie, carrying his briefcase . . .
Pink rooms with paperdoll wallpaper, record spinning on the player . . ."the big rock candy mountain" . . .the sound of boats on the Delaware in the distance. Hello, Philadelphia. And morning doves hooting outside my window.
I had a beautiful and priveledged childhood. Opportunity to be whatever I wanted. Open-minded parents who embraced all religions, races, sexual orientations . . .Allowed me to pierce things and dye my hair crazy colors.
I was lucky.
And shame on me for thinking how much easier it would be if I had experienced some traumatic event. This is where temptation is born to induce physical pain. Because it has a cause and effect. Unlike emotional pain, which is unclear and misunderstood.
Today I felt . . .nostalgic, overwhelmed . . .maybe I'm not trying hard enough, but I can't feel anything else.
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