I find myself tightly confined by the lingering thoughts, the residue of yesterday and the day before. It was just so nice to have a hug and sit with an attractive man; Emotional words pop right out of my mouth. Oh just what I needed to see an attractive man that I know and trust. Yes I know he is flattered. I then talked about age because I got shy about the male female attention. I said I was older than him because he talked of becoming 60 soon. Oh that is what I do bring up my age when I am feeling threatened by a man! There is a genuine bit of myself that remains a little girl who is out in the world entertaining without an ability to filter my words. Digressions in my excitement to have fun and express myself abound, forgetting where I am.
I could smell menthol or some medicinal smell. Not cologne and then I kissed his cheek in one of my Hollywood moments and I felt his beard. I stepped back and reacted to his wool tweed jacket. I have probably only given him a kiss twice on the cheek. I have been left with a poetic response to my past traumas. This time I kissed him again and again and was left with a deep breath of sadness. My desperation and remembrance of an old man too near me. I knew that he is not old and while these feelings are there they are not about him they are about a deep memory of some old man with a similar jacket and smell and my little girl wants to cry, my trauma wants release. While I keep saying to myself this feels the same; yet it is not the same. I feel violated when I haven’t been. The mix of feelings that come pouring out of me, as I move through my life working at accepting who I am. He is a very attractive male I can get confused about. This is the truth, I am the little girl running around the rifle range and then there is the vision of my grandfather’s exposure: a violation of a 6 year old. How to heal this I don’t know, what I do know is that life has offered me the kindling of the charred spirit of the ghost of the little girl lost, which now I’m healing.
If this seems hysterical or too emotional I am caught in my feedback loop of historical moments lodged in my body. Remembering a time and place not mine or not now. I am asking myself; why am I so emotional about Bonnie when it has been so long since we have been a part of each other's lives. Was there more drama than I can bring to the surface leaving me with fear of men and now losing a friend who was part of my history.
