Trash:
1 : something worth little or nothing: as a : JUNK, RUBBISH b (1) : empty talk : NONSENSE (2) : inferior or worthless writing or artistic matter; also : such material intended purely for entertainment2 : something in a crumbled or broken condition or mass; especially : debris from pruning or processing plant material3 : a worthless person; also : such persons as a group : RIFFRAFF
Treasure:
1 a (1) : wealth (as money, jewels, or precious metals) stored up or hoarded(2) : wealth of any kind or in any form : RICHES b : a store of money in reserve2 : something of great worth or value; also : a person esteemed as rare or precious3 : a collection of precious things
9,865 days. 27 years. A collection of both trash and treasure. Many things discarded, some held in reserve. Why some things are with me over others, I still wonder…
In this interim period of transference, my fingers walk over all these material collections, memories come flooding back from each, stress welling up in my head and heart, from both pleasant memories and horrific, as I pack each and wonder…
A box full of books ranging from cookbooks to childhood mystery novels to my adoption papers kept in a shiny red Neiman Marcus box. Maddening closed adoption papers with a small and brief card of medical history information handwritten with maybe my birthmother’s hand, maybe some stranger. Everytime I read it, I wonder…
Just like this box full of books and papers that I either could care less about, or have decided to keep with me all these years and tote around through every exasperating move, I wonder – was I trash (a.k.a.: a worthless person), or treasure (a.k.a.: a person esteemed as rare or precious)?
Which hits higher on the scale? Being a person that wasn’t worth keeping to the one that made me, carried me inside them, went through the pain of bringing me to life to just give me away with no other contact in life, or being the person for the two people that wanted a child, yet couldn’t have one, and waited on a waiting list for me to arrive years later, and keep, and hold, and parent? 9,865 days later – I still wonder…
The first thing I lugged and dragged out of the outside storage closet into the cool air conditioned climate was the container full of pictures. Right on top – two smiling faces cutting a cake in a lovely reception hall. One handsome in his tux, truly in love thinking that day was the first day of a joined life with his soul mate. The other knowing better, more intelligent, yet not, happy to have attention and love from someone, feel as though she was a part of a family, and also wishing the day, the cake, the dress, the ring – was being shared with someone that fulfilled her heart, and made her ache when she wasn’t with them.
Being naïve and wishing it was someone that could understand her thoughts, her emotions, share intelligent conversations, want to be something in life, and laugh at impractical behaviors. Yearning for that love that’s so magical, so intense, but not thinking she deserved it, would find it, that it was even real, or not screw it up somehow. Why I still keep these pictures, still in their beautiful frames, out of sight, but knowing they’re nearby, I wonder…
Trash: a worthless person… Only a worthless person would go through with those holy vows knowing his aggression, his lack of intelligence or ambition, knowing she could have very well lived her life alone and been perfectly happy.
Treasure: A collection of precious things… A precious day, in youth, two faces in their prime, beautiful in their own way, in lovely clothes, in a perfect picture, decorated with beautiful frames… The day that should’ve been shared with someone else.
Now that the aftermath is over, now that the damage has been done to both parties, here I am in my self-referenced pristine existence. Divorce final. True life begun, and seeing the scars for what they are. What I deserved, and yet didn’t.
A beautiful child created, and loved and fought over by all, how lucky I am to have gotten something as amazing as this beautiful boy out of that union. A true gift from God.
Not searching, not really wanting it at this point in my life, but finding myself found. Found by someone that my heart is linked to… Someone that I do love with my being. A couple of pains in the ass that think the same thoughts on the inside and worship each other on the outside. Perfect for each other in every way. And someone I had known in a roundabout way since childhood (if that era in my life can even be called childhood). Knowing it’s right in my heart, how I’ve been given an un-deserved second chance, and wondering…
In this new relationship, with all this love and yearning in my heart… What am I to him? Am I the trash (something in a crumbled or broken condition), or am I the treasure (a person esteemed as rare or precious)? What am I to me? To my parents? To my son? I could’ve lived my life independent, as is my nature, as I believed I would, but here he is, and I love him. Is this going to be the happily ever after, my prince I always dreamed about in my favorite Cinderella tale? Will I end up receiving what I dished out? As I prepare myself to join this prince in a new life together, dragging along my own trash and treasure, so many thoughts, memories, and scenarios come to mind,
And I wonder…
1 : something worth little or nothing: as a : JUNK, RUBBISH b (1) : empty talk : NONSENSE (2) : inferior or worthless writing or artistic matter; also : such material intended purely for entertainment2 : something in a crumbled or broken condition or mass; especially : debris from pruning or processing plant material3 : a worthless person; also : such persons as a group : RIFFRAFF
Treasure:
1 a (1) : wealth (as money, jewels, or precious metals) stored up or hoarded
9,865 days. 27 years. A collection of both trash and treasure. Many things discarded, some held in reserve. Why some things are with me over others, I still wonder…
In this interim period of transference, my fingers walk over all these material collections, memories come flooding back from each, stress welling up in my head and heart, from both pleasant memories and horrific, as I pack each and wonder…
A box full of books ranging from cookbooks to childhood mystery novels to my adoption papers kept in a shiny red Neiman Marcus box. Maddening closed adoption papers with a small and brief card of medical history information handwritten with maybe my birthmother’s hand, maybe some stranger. Everytime I read it, I wonder…
Just like this box full of books and papers that I either could care less about, or have decided to keep with me all these years and tote around through every exasperating move, I wonder – was I trash (a.k.a.: a worthless person), or treasure (a.k.a.: a person esteemed as rare or precious)?
Which hits higher on the scale? Being a person that wasn’t worth keeping to the one that made me, carried me inside them, went through the pain of bringing me to life to just give me away with no other contact in life, or being the person for the two people that wanted a child, yet couldn’t have one, and waited on a waiting list for me to arrive years later, and keep, and hold, and parent? 9,865 days later – I still wonder…
The first thing I lugged and dragged out of the outside storage closet into the cool air conditioned climate was the container full of pictures. Right on top – two smiling faces cutting a cake in a lovely reception hall. One handsome in his tux, truly in love thinking that day was the first day of a joined life with his soul mate. The other knowing better, more intelligent, yet not, happy to have attention and love from someone, feel as though she was a part of a family, and also wishing the day, the cake, the dress, the ring – was being shared with someone that fulfilled her heart, and made her ache when she wasn’t with them.
Being naïve and wishing it was someone that could understand her thoughts, her emotions, share intelligent conversations, want to be something in life, and laugh at impractical behaviors. Yearning for that love that’s so magical, so intense, but not thinking she deserved it, would find it, that it was even real, or not screw it up somehow. Why I still keep these pictures, still in their beautiful frames, out of sight, but knowing they’re nearby, I wonder…
Trash: a worthless person… Only a worthless person would go through with those holy vows knowing his aggression, his lack of intelligence or ambition, knowing she could have very well lived her life alone and been perfectly happy.
Treasure: A collection of precious things… A precious day, in youth, two faces in their prime, beautiful in their own way, in lovely clothes, in a perfect picture, decorated with beautiful frames… The day that should’ve been shared with someone else.
Now that the aftermath is over, now that the damage has been done to both parties, here I am in my self-referenced pristine existence. Divorce final. True life begun, and seeing the scars for what they are. What I deserved, and yet didn’t.
A beautiful child created, and loved and fought over by all, how lucky I am to have gotten something as amazing as this beautiful boy out of that union. A true gift from God.
Not searching, not really wanting it at this point in my life, but finding myself found. Found by someone that my heart is linked to… Someone that I do love with my being. A couple of pains in the ass that think the same thoughts on the inside and worship each other on the outside. Perfect for each other in every way. And someone I had known in a roundabout way since childhood (if that era in my life can even be called childhood). Knowing it’s right in my heart, how I’ve been given an un-deserved second chance, and wondering…
In this new relationship, with all this love and yearning in my heart… What am I to him? Am I the trash (something in a crumbled or broken condition), or am I the treasure (a person esteemed as rare or precious)? What am I to me? To my parents? To my son? I could’ve lived my life independent, as is my nature, as I believed I would, but here he is, and I love him. Is this going to be the happily ever after, my prince I always dreamed about in my favorite Cinderella tale? Will I end up receiving what I dished out? As I prepare myself to join this prince in a new life together, dragging along my own trash and treasure, so many thoughts, memories, and scenarios come to mind,
And I wonder…
posted by Scarlet at 12:01 PM
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