I Wonder

I Wonder

Another sleepless night has fallen upon my restless soul. I listen to the rumbling of distant thunder amidst the silence I sit in. I wait for my mesmeric Anna to come home at her 2am curfew so I can catch a glimpse of her jovial face and to make sure she has stayed out of trouble. I hardly see her at all these days. She is either working, playing soccer, at school, or playing hard at life. I sit here in solitude with my loving pets waiting to grab a moment of her time when she quickly passes through. She will be leaving for college in August and I am mournful. Both of my children will have left me and I am in the throws of empty nest syndrome already.

The roads are slick tonight from the rain and I worry about her. Her driving is reckless as she dances to the blaring music and chats incessantly on her cell phone. She argues that she pays perfect attention to the road but I have ridden with her and found myself praying we would make it to our destination alive. I pray daily for her safety and everyone else's that she may meet on the road. I've seen her ideas on driving safety and she thinks steering with both knees is fully acceptable if your hands are needed elsewhere.

The air has cooled from an unbidden storm that rolled in full of fury this afternoon. It spouted hail the size of golf balls from its veil. The hail ricocheted off the tin roof of my mobile home causing a deafening roar. Piper, Phoebe, and Pru, my cats, along with my dog Casper, and myself, huddled together in the living room. I was anxious that the flimsy windows would break at any moment and my heart galloped. The winds became tumultuous wobbling my trailer like an unbalanced washing machine during the spin cycle. I was certain that we were in a tornado for a few brief seconds. After the winds succumbed the arborescent lightning streaked across the sky brilliantly. It was an amazing event to watch. Within a few more minutes the storm ebbed as did my anxiety. I at once called Anna to warn her of the incoming storm at her location. I then called Daniel in Mobile. My son was of course far away from the inclement weather but I needed to check on his well being. Being afraid and alone during the turbulence made me long for my children even more than I already do. Oh how I miss them being babies.

Daniel didn't say much. He never does. He listened as I relayed my unnerving experience about the storm and then he quickly stated he had to do other things. I let him go and told him that I loved him. He mumbled the same in return.

The bedlam that nature provided stirred up unsettling emotions. A haunting feeling of loneliness lingers beneath the surface. I can't really put my finger on what churns inside me.

I think about what the future holds for these two precious children of mine. I think about what kind of adults they will be. They're off to a good start. I wonder if they will live close by and how many grandchildren they will give me. Then the thoughts circle back to me and I wonder if I'll be alone the rest of my days.

Writing is my companion now. My new found friend. It has been my sounding board and outlet for pain. It has been cathartic and it has caused unrest. It has helped to close wounds that have long been open. It has uncovered damage I didn't even know dwelled inside me.

As I write I have come to grasp the frightening revelation I have tried so hard to ignore. The realization that I'm just another one of the faceless masses. I'm not special except in the sense that I am considered a freak by some. I'll never write that Best Seller. Probably won't even get a book published. There are other dreams too that I have come to see that are just not obtainable. Though part of me can't help but wonder if this is giving up. I look back over the ocean of progress I have swam in the past few years and I am pleased. But now I feel as if I'm treading water, barely keeping my head above the rocking waves. I wonder, where do I go from here? Which direction? As I continue to write I search for the answer to reveal itself.

I do know that although some dreams may never come to light, that being the best mother I can possibly be is the most astounding thing I could ever want. My job as a mother will never be done. If I know I've gained the love of my children then I will know success. This will by my aspiration. I wonder if I will succeed.

I look at what I have written at times and try to remember how it all came to be. What prompted me to write such words? I have written while in delicious moods of delusion and in lethargic fits of depression. I've written compos mentis and under the influence. I wonder what brews the best concoction. Yet I feel it is all in desperation to unearth the answer to the unknown question hammering in my subconscious.

When I read what I have written I am sometimes bewildered and sometimes enlightened. Sometimes I am proud and sometimes I can't believe I actually made it through elementary school.

There are the distant few who have read my work but no one in my family ever has. I don't know if I'm ready for them to read my thoughts and see my imagination. They never ask. As I sit day after day writing endlessly, one story and essay after another, I store them on my computer. I wonder if they're not in the least bit curious. I wonder if someday someone will stumble across them and take an interest. If they will say, "Hey, look at what grandma wrote." I wonder what they will think.