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What I've been through, especially this past, 3 years, it's getting to me now. It's not like I'm dwelling on it, licking wounds or feeling sorry for myself, either. I'll just be moving along, going through the motions of the work I have to do, and it'll hit me, and I'll start to cry.
For instance, moving hoses into the sun, trying to thaw the pipe to the well, so I can have water. I passed Nilly's grave and she won't be coming with us. We're leaving her here, in this place of gloom, suffering and hostility, alone, at the mercy of wild dogs or whoever digs her up.
i wanted a little jacket for Dog, and found Matty's and really started to grieve for her, brought here with a bullet in her shoulder, blind, deaf, confused but of such good spirit. And I had to leave her with those nasty, self righteous animal horders.
The tools or things from my old kitchen I had to abandon with those drug addicts.
Miss Thing, dead under the house as her son and daughter bask in the sun through the window by the bed.
The children I've befriended, only to be jerked out of the neighborhood in desperation and panic. The gardens I never got to harvest.
The hard work that never bore fruit.
I'm not a failure. I did the best I could with what I had.
Until this trailer is actually at R's Grandma's house near Gallup, I will not believe I am safe, or headed toward safety.
I lie in bed, nearly blinded by sun, under my five blankets, feet and aching ankles finally warm and wath Nilly's daughter nibble teh last of a bale of grass and i just hope I'm doing it right, making it happen, getting us somewhere safe and peaceful, where we will be respected and left alone.
But it's all getting to me.
What I've been through, especially this past, 3 years, it's getting to me now. It's not like I'm dwelling on it, licking wounds or feeling sorry for myself, either. I'll just be moving along, going through the motions of the work I have to do, and it'll hit me, and I'll start to cry.
For instance, moving hoses into the sun, trying to thaw the pipe to the well, so I can have water. I passed Nilly's grave and she won't be coming with us. We're leaving her here, in this place of gloom, suffering and hostility, alone, at the mercy of wild dogs or whoever digs her up.
i wanted a little jacket for Dog, and found Matty's and really started to grieve for her, brought here with a bullet in her shoulder, blind, deaf, confused but of such good spirit. And I had to leave her with those nasty, self righteous animal horders.
The tools or things from my old kitchen I had to abandon with those drug addicts.
Miss Thing, dead under the house as her son and daughter bask in the sun through the window by the bed.
The children I've befriended, only to be jerked out of the neighborhood in desperation and panic. The gardens I never got to harvest.
The hard work that never bore fruit.
I'm not a failure. I did the best I could with what I had.
Until this trailer is actually at R's Grandma's house near Gallup, I will not believe I am safe, or headed toward safety.
I lie in bed, nearly blinded by sun, under my five blankets, feet and aching ankles finally warm and wath Nilly's daughter nibble teh last of a bale of grass and i just hope I'm doing it right, making it happen, getting us somewhere safe and peaceful, where we will be respected and left alone.
But it's all getting to me.
1 comment:
Don't give up - you are about the strongest women I've known of. I think you will find peace on the res. There is something about that area that is, I think, very restful to the soul. Do you have a mailing address? If yes, please email it to me at kewest99@yahoo.com.
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