Blast From The Past
Yesterday I saw someone I haven’t seen in nearly 2 decades. She was someone who made me so, unbelievably uncomfortable and nothing has changed. Last night, when I listened to Gord Downie’s album, I felt so at home in the presence of his voice. It reminds me of how often I used to feel those two opposing pulls in my world. The people and places where I felt at home and comfortable and those who made me feel so uncomfortable. There was an element of that with my mom. She didn’t love me for me, and I knew that. She tried to make me feel uncomfortable with who I was, and even if she didn’t succeed in squashing all of the parts of me she didn’t like, she also didn’t make me feel welcome. That album, did. It made me feel welcome in Gord’s life. It made me appreciate life. Yesterday’s reminder of how toxic some people can be in your life, and then the contrast of the relief and comfort I felt to hear Gord’s voice, honouring the people in his life with such eloquence, whimsy and beauty. And I know that the girl who makes me so uncomfortable is beautiful too. She just scares the hell out of me.
The man beside me at Starbucks keeps singing quietly to the songs that are playing. It is comforting. It is the reason I love writing in places like this. I love feeling other lives, nearby with no expectations. Sitting with friends or sitting alone. Writing, talking, reading, singing.
A little girl with her mom has taken the place of the singer. There is a sweetness to seeing a mother and daughter hanging out together like that. She just cheersed her daughter. I am so grateful to have that with my daughter. I feel sad to have not had that with my mom. I feel sad for her. She missed this and I still get to have it. I feel sad for both of us for the adult version of it that we had finally found and now lost. I was finally able to enjoy her, and she could enjoy me. Not always, but sometimes. But that actually made the rest of it hurt more and there were always land mines to avoid. It wasn’t a safe and trusting relationship. Still though, I miss it. I still find myself having moments where I have this hope that sits against all logic. Gord Downie would be able to rise above. He would know how to keep himself and her out of this kind of wreckage, but keep it light. At least, I think he would.
Gord, can you please show me?
The man beside me at Starbucks keeps singing quietly to the songs that are playing. It is comforting. It is the reason I love writing in places like this. I love feeling other lives, nearby with no expectations. Sitting with friends or sitting alone. Writing, talking, reading, singing.
A little girl with her mom has taken the place of the singer. There is a sweetness to seeing a mother and daughter hanging out together like that. She just cheersed her daughter. I am so grateful to have that with my daughter. I feel sad to have not had that with my mom. I feel sad for her. She missed this and I still get to have it. I feel sad for both of us for the adult version of it that we had finally found and now lost. I was finally able to enjoy her, and she could enjoy me. Not always, but sometimes. But that actually made the rest of it hurt more and there were always land mines to avoid. It wasn’t a safe and trusting relationship. Still though, I miss it. I still find myself having moments where I have this hope that sits against all logic. Gord Downie would be able to rise above. He would know how to keep himself and her out of this kind of wreckage, but keep it light. At least, I think he would.
Gord, can you please show me?
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