Life and the Mundane

Spring is finally in bloom here in the Capital region and with it I feel as though I'm shedding my old skin and revealing a new and better one. I feel like I'm making progress at my job, at home...and I might even get to move again soon. It's been six months, it's time to go. Don't get me wrong, we've enjoyed our time here, but our itchy feet usually only leave us in one place this long...then it's off to a new land. A new land, new house, new grocery store...

I don't know what I'm feeling right now...I was metaphorically slapped in the face the other day with the statement "you're still working on being a good wife." Fortunately it didn't come from my husband, but by someone who normally understands me, but totally blew me off course with that statement. I do write poetry about secretive loves and lusts, but I consider it a release. Usually those poems occur once or twice a year and are all written within days of each other--when it's cold and rainy, or just rainy at least, and I'm alone with those crazy ideas swirling in my head.

Those poems do reflect things I've felt and things I wonder about, but not things I'd act on. I fully believe in the idea that things happen for a reason and I am young enough still to believe that my life has not ended and is not over. There are adventures for years to come, challenges and expeditions and who knows what else. I write those poems mostly for myself, but I write them for others too. I write them so that others know they are loved and missed and fondly remembered.

Getting back to my earlier point however, I am a good wife. Of course, many will say that if I really was I wouldn't have to say it. Maybe that's true. All I know is that I feel safe here. I feel comfortable and content and protected and loved. And I give that back. But, reader, my life is dull. And so it is through the poems from the "private collection" that I bare my soul and admit my fantasies. And if that makes me a bad person, then so be it. I love deeply and I love many people. I have a very hard time letting go of the past and just living in the present. I like to remember and sometimes I even remember the bad stuff just to wonder what I could have done differently.

Someone once told me I should have these poems published...to which I replied, "but then everyone would know what they were about." So perhaps I feel a little guilty writing them but perhaps too I only like for them to be read by the people they were meant to be read by.