Petals and Space
That was dark. That last post was dark. Is my life always darkness? No. There’s light and a lot of it. And more importantly there’s space for light. There are places that were once dark and damaged that are cleared up, cleaned out. Maybe they need a little paint and a little TLC, but there’s space for the right people.
It’s those horrific moments that allow me to find complete joy in silly little things. In the way grass tickles my feet, or that I’m allowed to have the chance to be me. If I find something amusing, I don’t hide it. I can’t. I’m alive and I’ve moved beyond those dark places. I’ve rebuilt myself. And there’s space for light and laughter and love.
So after such a heavy and dark post, I thought I’d revisit a lighter gift. It’s Saturday and we’re on the couch. He’s been playing video games and I’m reading one of my favorite books, the kids are doing what they please. I can hear them and even though he’s trying to keep them quiet, I don’t mind. It’s the sound of life. It’s the sound of a home.
He’s asking me if I want to play. I stopped playing video games after Kingdom Hearts. I get frustrated by most of them. Time limits, objectives that don’t always resolve, moving goal posts, and my attention span doesn’t usually co-operate. Not to mention I lost focus when they added two joysticks so I end up looking at a sky and wheeling in circles. HOW MANY THUMBS DO YOU THINK I HAVE AND HOW MANY DIRECTIONS MUST I HAVE TO GO?!
But he’s the right mix of respecting what I’m saying and still getting me to try new things. Like a balance. It’s a game called Flower. He gets it downloaded and queued up and then hands me the controller. Do I fight it? I think about it for a hot second, but then I figure what the hell? If I don’t like it then I’ll tinker for a minute and then just say so.
It’s brilliant. Damn it. I really like it. The premise is built for me. Emotionally interacting with a game instead of playing it. Music chimes, visuals sweep, no time, no text, no real objective. I’m caught completely off-guard and even though I can feel him watching me, I don’t care. The game is short, completable in an hour. It’s fantastic, I could do this for hours and hours and hours and never grow bored. It’s soothing me. He’s figuring me out.
More light comes in.
I buy the game on my phone before it’s even been two hours. I can already see how it will soothe my anxieties, how it will help me. And how every time I touch it, he’ll be there in my mind. It was a gift to me, and it came so unbidden and hidden in such a mundane act. It’s just a game. It was just him trying to share.
***
When Matt and I moved to the South a year ago, we knew hardly anyone. We decided we’d host a Housewarming after we made connections. I’m right now in the process of cleaning, dusting, and “setting” things. Getting them into place where I want them for the party even though that’s not how they are in every day life. I can’t get away with that on a daily basis for practical reasons, but for parties Matt will suspend his need to have things reachable for having them aesthetic.
While planning it’s come to us that we may reach a new goal. Our home has always been something we wanted to share with our partners in any way we can. A base, a shelter, a hang out spot. I tell him that T is bringing R. That he may be bringing all of his kids and staying the night, and of course Matt throws his arms wide and agrees. And then tells me his girlfriend and her son may join us as well. Wonderful!
We have the space, the accommodations, and the desire to have them all here. And a new dream has sprung to my mind. A dream that even if it’s not this weekend, it can be arranged in the future. A dream that brings me nothing but light.
I imagine Sunday dawning on a house full. If it works out, there will be Matt and his C and little T. Mine will be there with his kids. Music, breakfast... might we finally pull the leaves out for the table and expand it? Matt’s excited at the prospect of cooking for an army. I’m excited just to be in it, to enjoy it all.
We decide that even if it’s not this weekend, we’ll arrange something soon. Will my weekend be full of people? Of chatter and noise and kids and love? I’m not going to bank on it in case it can’t be now, but I hope. I look forward to a time when it is. I look forward to so many like it. The whole polycule. The entirety of us to the table.
Ohana.
It’s those horrific moments that allow me to find complete joy in silly little things. In the way grass tickles my feet, or that I’m allowed to have the chance to be me. If I find something amusing, I don’t hide it. I can’t. I’m alive and I’ve moved beyond those dark places. I’ve rebuilt myself. And there’s space for light and laughter and love.
So after such a heavy and dark post, I thought I’d revisit a lighter gift. It’s Saturday and we’re on the couch. He’s been playing video games and I’m reading one of my favorite books, the kids are doing what they please. I can hear them and even though he’s trying to keep them quiet, I don’t mind. It’s the sound of life. It’s the sound of a home.
He’s asking me if I want to play. I stopped playing video games after Kingdom Hearts. I get frustrated by most of them. Time limits, objectives that don’t always resolve, moving goal posts, and my attention span doesn’t usually co-operate. Not to mention I lost focus when they added two joysticks so I end up looking at a sky and wheeling in circles. HOW MANY THUMBS DO YOU THINK I HAVE AND HOW MANY DIRECTIONS MUST I HAVE TO GO?!
But he’s the right mix of respecting what I’m saying and still getting me to try new things. Like a balance. It’s a game called Flower. He gets it downloaded and queued up and then hands me the controller. Do I fight it? I think about it for a hot second, but then I figure what the hell? If I don’t like it then I’ll tinker for a minute and then just say so.
It’s brilliant. Damn it. I really like it. The premise is built for me. Emotionally interacting with a game instead of playing it. Music chimes, visuals sweep, no time, no text, no real objective. I’m caught completely off-guard and even though I can feel him watching me, I don’t care. The game is short, completable in an hour. It’s fantastic, I could do this for hours and hours and hours and never grow bored. It’s soothing me. He’s figuring me out.
More light comes in.
I buy the game on my phone before it’s even been two hours. I can already see how it will soothe my anxieties, how it will help me. And how every time I touch it, he’ll be there in my mind. It was a gift to me, and it came so unbidden and hidden in such a mundane act. It’s just a game. It was just him trying to share.
***
When Matt and I moved to the South a year ago, we knew hardly anyone. We decided we’d host a Housewarming after we made connections. I’m right now in the process of cleaning, dusting, and “setting” things. Getting them into place where I want them for the party even though that’s not how they are in every day life. I can’t get away with that on a daily basis for practical reasons, but for parties Matt will suspend his need to have things reachable for having them aesthetic.
While planning it’s come to us that we may reach a new goal. Our home has always been something we wanted to share with our partners in any way we can. A base, a shelter, a hang out spot. I tell him that T is bringing R. That he may be bringing all of his kids and staying the night, and of course Matt throws his arms wide and agrees. And then tells me his girlfriend and her son may join us as well. Wonderful!
We have the space, the accommodations, and the desire to have them all here. And a new dream has sprung to my mind. A dream that even if it’s not this weekend, it can be arranged in the future. A dream that brings me nothing but light.
I imagine Sunday dawning on a house full. If it works out, there will be Matt and his C and little T. Mine will be there with his kids. Music, breakfast... might we finally pull the leaves out for the table and expand it? Matt’s excited at the prospect of cooking for an army. I’m excited just to be in it, to enjoy it all.
We decide that even if it’s not this weekend, we’ll arrange something soon. Will my weekend be full of people? Of chatter and noise and kids and love? I’m not going to bank on it in case it can’t be now, but I hope. I look forward to a time when it is. I look forward to so many like it. The whole polycule. The entirety of us to the table.
Ohana.
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