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Time for Myself

January 9, 2010
Christmas Day was wonderful with my husband, daughter, ma-in-law, and pa-in-law. We played, we ate, we laughed and enjoyed one another staying in our hearts for the day.
 
The following day with extended family was filled with angst, tension, bitchiness, and the desire never to repeat the experience. After a short time, everyone parted and went our separate ways. With two Christmases down and two to go, we hit the road for the Salinas/Monterey area.
The tires rolling along the highway was calming. It was nice being in the passenger seat for a change and I thoroughly enjoyed looking at the passing scenery. The drone of the rubber meeting the road is a steady sound that allows me to slip into a state of meditation. I allow my thoughts to come and go.
It is strange that certain sights can evoke such strong memories. And it is even stranger that strong memories can evoke certain sights.
I see the old road broken and filled with weeds, one side fallen down the hillside. It takes me back to life as a child… when we were still a family…making the trip to the delta and our boat. I wonder how many times I got sick from the neverending twists and turns of the road rising and falling through steep hills. I actually only remember once when all that was handy was a bag of plums.
I recall the story my father told me about a Native American princess and Lover’s Leap. I imagine what it was like living in the surrounding countryside. I remember reading about Pacheco Pass’ history and supposed hauntings.
My heart starts to feel full and heavy like I’m going home. But I’m only nearing the town where I was born; the area filled with my childhood memories of my father, family, aunt, uncle, the many cousins, and times spent together.
The pain medications slips in and my mind grows fuzzy. It’s not a bad feeling.  The music is on and I know all the songs. I slump down in my seat, nestle down into a pillow against the window and sing. I sing with my true voice. I sing each and every word with a passion. I sing from my heart.
I realize that it is possible to find time for myself even when others are near… I sing!

One comment

  1. It’s funny what things trigger memories. Very descriptive. Singing is good. I’m always singing or humming. The kids all call it doo-dee-doo-ing. I think it’s genetic because my father was always humming when he was doing things.



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