in search of a public toilet in the nite streets of posh west london, the scent of fresh laundry fills my head, but before i can say anything, he tells me how much he loves that smell, 'the smell of hot, clean air coming out of the vent from the drier...it's fresh laundry,' i say. yeah, he nods. i grab for his hand and hold it tight, as i grab hold, it takes me back to being a little girl, i remember the hot used air pumping out of the vent in the side of my house, steam rising into the cold afternoon. i'd rush over and put my face in it and inhale all the clean sweetness i could.
i walk through a cleaning aisle in this discount store, everything for sale is out of date or damaged. i'm half way down the aisle, when the smell hit me, and sent me back 14 years. i couldn't tell you what it smelled like now, it must have been one of the cleaners. it took me back to one of my neighbors work shops. he collected rocks, and he had these two big dogs, that's all i can recall of him anymore. this man who had no relation to me, and other than the fact he'd give my sister and i pretty rocks he'd found about, he had no residual connection to me either.
a movie, a word, tears falling from an actress's cheek, enough to bring emotions flooding back from the years i spent being far too troubled. the dark running make up around her eyes, i remember my own in the mirror. sobbing into a pillow, family turning their backs.
it's funny how far i've come now. in my own flat, sitting on my own bed, typing away on my own laptop, updating my own journal on the porn site i decided to become a part of, all on my own. i get my own mail in my own mail box every day, my own overdue bills that i can almost keep up with. my own life to do with what i please, to flush down the toilet, or to make fully worthwhile. my own struggles and fears and lonely cold moments. and i wouldn't trade any of it, and i'd do it all over again if i had to.
today i have done more thinking than i should. on my alone days, which are more and more frequent as of late, i think maybe too much. but while i stand here on the brink of my life, it feels good to lay a few things to rest, and stir others back to life.
i walk through a cleaning aisle in this discount store, everything for sale is out of date or damaged. i'm half way down the aisle, when the smell hit me, and sent me back 14 years. i couldn't tell you what it smelled like now, it must have been one of the cleaners. it took me back to one of my neighbors work shops. he collected rocks, and he had these two big dogs, that's all i can recall of him anymore. this man who had no relation to me, and other than the fact he'd give my sister and i pretty rocks he'd found about, he had no residual connection to me either.
a movie, a word, tears falling from an actress's cheek, enough to bring emotions flooding back from the years i spent being far too troubled. the dark running make up around her eyes, i remember my own in the mirror. sobbing into a pillow, family turning their backs.
it's funny how far i've come now. in my own flat, sitting on my own bed, typing away on my own laptop, updating my own journal on the porn site i decided to become a part of, all on my own. i get my own mail in my own mail box every day, my own overdue bills that i can almost keep up with. my own life to do with what i please, to flush down the toilet, or to make fully worthwhile. my own struggles and fears and lonely cold moments. and i wouldn't trade any of it, and i'd do it all over again if i had to.
today i have done more thinking than i should. on my alone days, which are more and more frequent as of late, i think maybe too much. but while i stand here on the brink of my life, it feels good to lay a few things to rest, and stir others back to life.
VIEW 22 of 22 COMMENTS
this is beautiful:
<but while i stand here on the brink of my life, it feels good to lay a few things to rest, and stir others back to life.>
i am moved
be well.
But I just might take you up on that offer to come over and see you and your man in england.
T*