Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Chronicles of a Girl Part III


pic of my son by my sister Jaida, blog written in free form so don't message me and tell me where all the mistakes are because i don't care,



life goes by so fast, it don't feel like that when you are 17 and just want to be on your own, an adult, it feels as if it moves like syrup and maybe it does, but once you turn slightly you can look back and see the traces and tracks of all that once was, i don't see it in 8mm movie form like i want to instead i see it as if someone is throwing polaroids down in front of me...i want to pick them up and look closely and remember that exact moment, remember the warm, the smells, the taste of my life...but whoever is throwing these polaroids down flicks them faster and faster and there are more and more and i catch mere glimpses of what i did, things i saw when everything was so big to me to things i seen later when my children were so small...those polaroids are still flipping and this is a mere smidgen, a few polaroids, of only a few of the things in the life of this girl you think you know...( but you don't)
Age Two, who is that fat baby with an onion head, why do I have to call him brother, if they keep taking my picture when I am nice to him I will be nice to him. mother always crying, father never home, anymore. i make ashtrays made of mud for my mother so she won't cry but it makes her cry more, the simple act of blowing dandelion seeds off into the wind like little parachutes makes me happy
Age 6
looking out windows, barely peeking over the top. Seeing the plains ride by me the day we left my father to a new life. Finding the city fascinating to live in because the reality of it all hit. how do i make friends here? Being hungry as my mom started college, worked and disco-ed in her youth. The youth that was halted by my appearance at the edge of seventeen found her again
More flashes
Age 8
moving to the reservation, living in the country, chickens, rabbits, dogs, and a pair of geese I let free in the moonlight. Week long visits to my paternal greatgrandparents in the summer, hollering at Great Grandpa Frank's fading hearing, finding little things for Great Grandma's fading eyesight and wondering what she meant, not know she was slowly losing her memory. grandpa takes me to dig timpsila's (prairie turnips) and teaches me to braid them
Age 10
flashes of being introduced to the lakota religion and wondering where i fit this with my friends who go to church, i decide not to try and fit the pieces together, just go with the flow. mother gets married, seems happy we find a place to live and move out of grandma's basement, i take long walks and pretend i can control the wind with my mind, make up stories to keep me happy
age 15
i lose myself...i don't know what i am looking for...what do i want... what is expected of me ...all i do is draw and write poetry to make me happy
age 19 i give my whole life over to a man, i only want him to be happy i never seen what i see now he never tried to make me happy, flashes of worry, wonder and love...sweet love and too many "fake" holidays
age 23 mother of two boys i stare at for hours and am amazed they are of me. they roll around like baby lions, never knowing how i turned their lives upside down by moving so much in their young lives...they just continue to run, and roll like baby lions and i am the mother, protective, watching them while i bead and work too many jobs i hate to buy them things... the simple joy of driving over a bridge so they can say "My See The Water!" makes their day...and mine...where the hell did those days go???
age 26
flashes of working long hours, partying with friends...going to salsa night on our days off...lighting that old flame and then...BAM...here comes a third boy, born angry screaming and peeking at me with huge eyes, i knew he was a boy the whole time, the little boy that reunited his parents for 3 years, the little boy that never really knew his father, the little boy that has so much passion, surely it will flow over
Age 32
so many moves, so much starting over, point a to point b, point c to point f (which is right?) i am so sick of moving, of thinking this is the last time and yet rushed romance finds me pregnant, alone with 3 beautiful boys and living somewhere where i know no one. i knew i was in labor, it always starts with a dull backache then she came on a winter day i was all alone except for two nurses and one doctor who really did nothing...i felt so powerful i bet i could have done it alone but i felt alone anyway until they told me she was a girl i opened my eyes and tears poured out, she was so beautiful, even as she glared at me for the rough ride out of her comfortable domain
almost 35 i know i wouldn't have done things any other way but...
i still wonder who the hell i am?
hn

4 comments:

Dorid said...

Sometimes I think we all have to wonder who we are. Those photos flip faster and faster as time goes by. I think some of us are naturally restless, that we will not accept less, and the moves and the struggle to have a better life for ourselves and our kids keeps us going on... even when we are exhausted. It makes it hard to put down roots. We are like tumbleweeds, putting down roots for as long as we can find nurishment in the soil, then blowing to a new location on the wind until we can find a place to sink our roots again.

Alissa said...

Isn't that what life is about? Trying to figure out who we are? I think if we figured it too early in life, life wouldn't be as interesting, or challenging, because you'd do everything right, because you'd know exactly who you are, and how you want things done to be happy. I like the constant self discovery, even if after the fact, it leaves me frustrated that I didn't figure it out a year ago to save myself trouble...

Dana L said...

yes....and yes...i love blogspot...of course i posted this on 360 for Sarah's pouty ass, but I love it here because I can write what I want without being a target of attack on my beliefs...thanks you guys for reading me here, I really am so much more comfortable here.

JohnB said...

Very cool Dana! The free form suits you rather well...

Doesn’t it seem that we choose our road, but something else places those obstacles or reliefs in our path…it is what we do with them that matters and ends up defining who were are at the end at least…