So Lost

If you come to think about it, it is a strange thing to know that in the moment of one’s birth the life of at least one person was permanently changed. 

That’s a big impact for a first time entrance.

Whether she had been pining for the day to arrive or dreading it, that day would have had the greatest impact on her future life.  

The mere fact that one enters the scene so completely oblivious of that is almost comical.  

I am here.  Take care of me.

When will we ever assert our needs with such irreproachable forcefulness?  When will we ever care so little about who is providing us with food and protection? 

We don’t choose our parents and they don’t choose us – often they don’t really choose whether to have us either.  The family unit usually is an arrangement forged entirely by chance.

Growing up, we may come to realize the many challenges our arrival once posed on our parent(s).  We may also eventually come to see our once almighty life givers in a more realistic light as we come to resemble them if only by entering adulthood.

Usually we end up loving them for all their humanity, their flaws, ticks, and annoying antics and for how hard they tried, being just that human and yet, so lost. 

After all

When I initially set down to write the last post a few minutes ago, I had a story in mind.  Some string of thoughts and events that tie twenty-one years of marriage together.  

But then, all of a sudden, twenty-one years of life, kids, countries and all the challenges and triumphs, that propelled us along the way, seemed to merge into a tiny speck, a minuscule singular event, called Matt and I.  

One more year.  

Twenty-one

...twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four....  Maybe it is time to stop counting.

Revisiting

Keep me in your thoughts

While time resumes its pace

While this narration carries on

And leaves us in its wake

Of the words that passed between us

Let them not be in vain

Eager is my wandering mind
To visit them again

'tis

The other day, J. told me that he overheard someone at a family reunion last summer say that it was good that I did not come.  

It hadn’t been easy to let M. and J. go off by themselves and the departure had been rather tearful, but the flights were expensive and so the girls and I spent the summer riding bikes up and down the Rhine while M. and J. flew off to the States.

The memory of that strange remark must have been on J.’s mind for a while, gnawing at him and now that  summer has arrived and we are all going back to Michigan together, he felt he had to share it with me. 

Maybe it was out of a sense of loyalty, but maybe it was also out of a sense of grief.  Something had been lost that he could not replace, something had been taken from him and he was sad about that.

I consoled him and told him that he was not alone, Z. had gone through a similar experience. 

I also told him that every time something gets taken, you also gain something.  

I am not sure whether he treasures insight as much as trust, however.

Just so

All my life I have tried to fit in.  I have tried to figure out my parents so that I would not get into trouble while also not having to move along with every one of their whims and moods. 

I found friends along the way and – while often feeling more at ease around them – I have had to learn that friendship too is an ever-changing map.  

Over time I have come to call some of my friends my family and quite a few of my happiest moments have been with that hand picked family, when I am carefree.  When I don’t have to fit in, I simply do.  

Eventually I decided to start my own family with one of these friends, a family where once again I hoped that I could simply be without having to try too hard.  I think it is working out.   

But there are moments, when I am my very best company.  Just in the here and now.  Sitting at the table by my window, as the yellow light turns a soft orange while playing between the petals of the roses which I placed on the table earlier.  

Just so.

Don't Bother...

In Britain, harassing, mobbing and libelling colleagues does not seem to constitute an offence that puts into question the mobber as much as the mobee. 

When a female broker took her employer to work over turning a blind eye when she found out that a male colleague had been bad mouthing her to her clients over a period of years, it was HER who had to defend herself in front of the court of law providing evidence that she was not a “psycho bitch” and “chronic druggie”. 

The BBC reported about the case recently because it was a rare occasion where the victim actually took her case to the court instead of accepting hush money – mostly because to save her career she did not really have another option.

While the BBC report correctly emphasised the importance of this step taken, they concluded that it may nevertheless not be the preferable route to take, since the time and energy spent in addition to the considerable financial burden and emotional trauma and possible social backlash the victim may face may not be worth the trouble.

No mentioning on how to improve the system and forcing the perpetrator to provide evidence for HIS claims and placing the financial burden as well as the social stigma on HIS back.

Needless to say he has since taken a pay out from his former employer and moved on.  She is still dealing with the consequences of the libelling campaign.