FUGUE

Last week went so quickly. I know, I keep saying that, but all of my days seem to be one long day any more. Monday was Kim's Fabulous Escape from Babyland!!! My buddy and pal, Heidi, was not afraid to drive in Columbus (I am), and I wasn't afraid to give her gas money (although, considering the pump prices lately, I probably should have been) -- so we charged around the "Big City" all day. It was a gorgeous day, and once again, I spent money as though I was still bringing in my normal paycheck, but it was so very nearly perfect.!!! We trekked to Easton (my personal Mecca), and then to the church of the Village Bookshop (an actual bookshop made from a converted little white church )... and my true heaven. As we entered the doorway, the cooled, coffee-scented shadows danced around us. The scents of old paper, aged wood and leather welcomed me...My dearest friends, I was home. Jon has always known that he's my dream prince...the one I prayed so hard and so long for...and he's always known that I would never leave him for another man...however, if there is a bookstore anywhere close by, he knows where he can find me. It's so hard to describe how peaceful and how calm I feel surrounded by shelves of books waiting to be read and loved. For me, it is the Well of Souls...where everything begins and time stops...and I remember...


For so many years, these were my friends...as the child of teachers and actors, I've always believed that ink runs in my veins...(of course, if anyone has seen the papers I helped grade over the years...they would be inclined to think that it was RED ink)...I watched with such envy as my brothers and sisters seemed to know all of the right moves with people. Now, in hindsight, they may have been just as clueless socially...but from my view then, it never quite seemed that way -- even now, it still feels as though the other four were oddly blessed with skills I am still trying to master. God, but I wanted to be a part of some of what they had...of what they seemed to take so casually for granted, but in so many cases, I was my own worst enemy. I have always suffered from bad-timing and a nearly-incurable case of Foot-In-Mouth disease. When I wanted something desperately, I obviously came across as desperate...and you could see the mistakes I would make from miles away, and say to yourself "Oh, no...No, Kim...just stop talking...don't go there...they don't have to know that...they don't have to see this..." And the train wreck would happen anyway...even I could see it coming, but I could never find the brakes. As with any other horrific accident, you would want to turn away...to back pedal...but you would be impelled by forces beyond your control to watch every grinding, awkward moment as it slowed into agony. In so many instances, I genuinely felt like I was also an onlooker to my life's mistakes...and I don't know if that is a good thing or not. It was harder to take responsibility for things that I had convinced myself that I couldn't possibly have done. I used to wish that some day, I would be cool enough or wise enough that people would actually be interested in what I said, without my shoving it down their throats -- that somehow I would start a trend or a tradition. Over the last several years...it seems as though my wish has finally been granted. I still think I'm trying too hard...I probably am...but people are hearing me now...actually hearing me now. In fairness, the vast majority of them may just be intregued to see what will come out of my mouth next (I know I am), but it's a truly pleasant experience to be heard

...but now, perhaps, I'm not hiding as much as I used to... In the fifth grade, I asked for a collection of Edgar Allan Poe...in the sixth, I asked for the complete works of Shakespeare...for years, I have wrapped myself in quilts of yellowed pages and leather, and peeked out at the world as I turned the pages...books never judged...books never wronged...could never be hurt by thoughtless words...and if a book was lost, I could always find another copy. I thought of these things as Heidi and I prowled the shelves of my most favorite place in the world...I wondered why, even now, when I know how good my friends are, when I know how truly blessed I am with my family...with Jon, who is my heart and my soul's twin --why I even now I feel compelled to dive into stories of people who will never know me...and hide again. I am not the child I was...I may never truly have been the foolish girl I thought I was...and perhaps my mistakes are not really that grand in the scale of things...I have done in my life what I wanted most to do...to find the one I would love more than anything else in the world, and to be loved back by him, and to be fairytale happy. It never occurred to me that life would offer me more than that...somehow, I have become a person that others will listen to. Somehow, I am a person who really does have something to say...and my life of drifting to the next moment seems less wispy and more solid...and there's this little boy now...he looks at me with Jon's expressions and my features, and a joy of his own. Somehow, with the faith of one love and the hope of the other, I am important...I really am special...and I still don't know how this change in my self-perception really came about. I had been told these things before...but I never really bought into it... I let myself listen to all of the wrong people...and their words just seemed to stick harder. I want to teach Josh so much...but I hope with all of my heart, that I never teach him to hide. I hope that he will have the strength that I never thought I had. I hope, for his sake, that he will find it earlier than I found mine.

I have just looked in on Josh for the last time tonight...Jon has already gone to bed...and as I stand at the doorway, listening to the breathing of both of my princes, I wonder if a fairy tale ever once seemed as right and good as the life I am living now.