Weekly Photo Challenge: Water

Inside the Guinness Brewery Storehouse, Dublin, Ireland

I love how a picture can bring you back to the moment it was taken – the sounds and smells – who you were with, what you were feeling, and what the day was like.

I am forever glad I got to go on this trip with my son, and I hope he feels the same.

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Doors Of Dublin

On my Ireland trip in 2009, I took pictures of doors that I had hoped to make into a poster after seeing various ‘doors of’ posters in the past that I thought were cool.  I don’t have the best camera, and am an amateur photographer (obviously), but here is my attempt (click on the smaller image to enlarge it):

I thought it strange that several doors have their knobs in the middle of the door, but that is an exception as most of the places we went had the knobs on the side of the door.  I wish one of the doors with the knob in the center of the door had belonged to a public venue because it would have been interesting to see if it felt as odd as it looked to open the door.

This back-garden hedge entry is not in Dublin, but I liked it so much I wanted to include it in this post.  It’s from a Bed & Breakfast that we stayed at in County Cork that made me feel like I’d enter Narnia by going through it, or at least into the Secret Garden:

I hope to take another trip when I can spend more time in one area instead of trying to sight-see the country in a week…

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

May The Fourth Be With You

I’m sure that will be the title of quite a few blog entries today, but I couldn’t resist!

My son would get upset with me when he would eat with his hands when he was little and I’d say “use the fork, Luke!”  He’d yell at me that his name wasn’t Luke!  Now he just rolls his eyes if I ever say it.  I love Star Wars.  I vacillated between wanting to be Princess Leia, and wanting to marry Luke Skywalker.  Then I wanted to reincarnate as Princess Leia and marry Han Solo.  I wasn’t really up on the whole reincarnation concept.

I don’t believe in reincarnation – and even if it’s real regardless of my belief, I don’t ever want to come back here anyway.  A sincere fantasy of mine is wondering what it would have been like to grow up in a good-enough family.  Maybe I would have turned out exactly the same with all the same issues, but I doubt it.  I would have been braver, and I would have had tangible support.  My parents would have brought me to music lessons, or helped me learn how to pursue my dreams.  I do my best now – and I also have a large network of people who care – some I’ve never even met, and that’s what matters, but it would be nice if it wasn’t so taxing.  I am proud that I was a mostly good parent for my son, and presented him with many opportunities and supported his choices when he took the initiative to try new things.  I think that being present with him was my best gift to him, and regardless of my mistakes, he knows I did the best I could.

When my son was a sophomore in high school, starting the college process, he was being courted by dozens of colleges.  I cried when all the college applications and information starting pouring into our mailbox because it was so outside of my experience.  Those colleges wanted him, or at least wanted him to apply.  I applied at the only college I imagined would take me – our local community college – and then only because of my friend’s prodding.  Once there, it was one of my professors who suggested I apply to Smith College to finish my degree.  I looked at him and told him I wasn’t smart enough to go to a school like that.  He smiled, put his hand on my shoulder, and said: “Just apply”.

I was accepted that summer, on a full scholarship, and I was terrified.  I moved on campus and began what has become one of the most important experiences of my life.  I didn’t get a terrific job when I graduated, because I was still me, with all my untreated trauma issues, and there was a glut of English majors on the market then.  I was told by one potential employer to ‘go back and get a science or math degree’.  That’s what was really needed at that time.  I sent out a hundred applications and got two job interviews, neither of which hired me.

I finally found work as an office assistant, and was dreadfully unhappy.  Then I found work at a daycare, but only lasted there eight months.  I liked kids, but it was an overwhelming job, and was too close to home with some of the abused kids we worked with.  Then I was told of a band audition coming up and I went.  I was hired as a singer, and sang with them for a year, meeting my son’s father, the keyboardist.  We had a whirlwind romance and I was pregnant in two months.  He wanted me to not have the baby, but I felt differently, so I told him I’d leave and never bother him again, but I wasn’t giving up the baby.  A few days later he told me he thought about it and he wanted to stay with me, so he was resigned to my having the baby.  We tried to make our relationship work, but I think it was doomed from that day.

Our son is now in college, a bright young man who is very much his own person.  I wish he had a relationship with his father now that he’s older, and I talk about his dad with him on occasion.  Our son feels that it was his father’s job to keep in touch with him no matter what.  Maybe I should tell him it could be worse; his father could have turned out to be Darth Vader.  Of course, Darth Vader did redeem himself at the end.  I know life doesn’t often end on a positive note – it usually just ends.  I hope my son reconciles with his father because even if they don’t go on to enjoy a close relationship, he won’t be left with the regret of a wasted chance.

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Doggone Memory

When I was eleven, two girls moved into the commune with their mother, and brought their dog, Suzi, with them.  Suzi was a cute, short-haired mutt with a sweet personality, and she made life so much more bearable.

Today is Suzi’s birthday, and my memory of her is bittersweet.  Even though she was the other girls’ dog, she liked me and I was always playing with her – her owners being more occupied with their peers than I was (or than I was privileged to be, but that’s another story).

Us younger commune kids weren’t involved in the larger world around us that often, so it was exciting when we got to go anywhere, especially an event like the Memorial Day parade.  One of the adults decided to take a group of us kids to the parade in a town we had not been to before.  Our chaperone let me take Suzi, and she usually minded well, so I didn’t worry that she would wander off.

She had no leash, but did have a collar with her name on the tag, but no number to call if she was lost.  Even if there were a number, it would have been from New York where Suzi had been registered.

It was an overcast day, with a steady drizzle by the time we got to the town and were walking from the lot we parked in to a spot where we could watch the parade.  As we walked, I had to keep waiting for Suzi, who wanted to sniff everything, and I was soon falling behind the group I was with and feared losing them.

There were so many people and I was so scared when I looked up the street after waiting for Suzi and could no longer see anyone from my group.  I called Suzi one last time and then ran to catch up, thinking that Suzi would find us by following my scent.  She didn’t.

We spent about an hour after the parade searching and calling for Suzi, but couldn’t find her.  We called the police and described Suzi, and because we lived in the commune where someone always needed the vehicles, we didn’t take any trips back to continue the search for her.  No one even helped me put up posters, or made any real attempts to get her back.

The girls were understandably furious with me, and I was devastated.  I considered her my dog as well because I spent so much time with her and I loved her.

Writing this from my adult perspective, I felt the grief of losing her all over again, and I’m still angry that no one earnestly tried to help me find Suzi.  I was this powerless girl in a sea of adults who couldn’t be bothered.  It might not be worthy of a Charles Dickens novel, but it was pretty close.

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.