Ever since I can remember I have said that I wanted red headed babies. This last week, for some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot of about this one very sweet boy I knew in high school. He was a big giant red headed boy.*
He was probably over 6 feet tall, husky, country fed; he had pale red skin and bright red hair and he had this very quiet softness to him. We only ever had the one class together, homeroom. He always went out of his way to make me smile in it though. He had this openness and vulnerability that completely contradicted his big burly frame.
He had been in juvie** and he had joined the ROTC with intentions to get his life together. He didn’t have the happiest home life and I remember him telling me about being in foster care.
I could tell that talking to me was the highlight of his day and when he saw me his eyes always lit up. Slowly, gradually, over time I found myself looking forward to seeing him just as much it seemed. He shared so much of himself; his emotions, his past, his hopes and dreams with me and I knew given the chance he would have done anything in the world for me.
I didn’t know then what has taken me 30 years more to understand. This is the kind of love I need. Love that burns so bright with such a force that there are no walls between. A love that demands nothing of me and simply delights in my presence.
It’s not that I didn’t know to appreciate it then. It was that he was so fragile and I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he had been already and I also didn’t feel myself particularly attracted to him…. at least not in the conventional way I was used to. One day he stopped showing up to class and I never saw him again. Before that though he gave me his photo. I still have it in my keepsake box. I’ll have to dig it out.
This nostalgia seems to have some purpose behind it and if I can decipher what these memories are trying to tell me I think I’ll find some value here. But no chances of a red haired baby anymore….. maybe I’ll get a red headed grand baby. One day… very, very far in the future. Maybe. Lol
* I wish I could remember his name but that’s a skill I have never possessed. It’s so bad I don’t even try to remember people’s names anymore because I know if I don’t write it down immediately and reference it multiple time I simply won’t put it to memory. Everyone has their Achilles. I have many but that is definitely one of them.
I also don’t think I consciously connected wanted a red head baby to him directly. Personally I think it probably may go even farther back to a very kind man my mother used to date when I was a child. He was always very sweet to me and made my mother smile; which if you knew her you’d know was an anomaly.
Unfortunately, as I found out recently, he had been married. My mother hadn’t even known is the sad part. My father who was 5 years divorced from her at this point made it his mission to play detective (pre-internet) and followed the man and then threw it in her face. Maybe being stalked runs in the family for us gals. Hopefully I didn’t pass that on to my kiddo’s. Lol. Ugghhhh. I’m laughing but not really.
I haven’t slept well. I haven’t eaten well. I haven’t been to the gym, running, yoga. I have a daunting list of things that need to get done and my body seems to have its own agenda right now. I am ridiculously tired during the day. This is the second day now I’ve had to nap which is completely unlike me. There are so many factors at play that I can’t even narrow it down to find the main culprit. It’s fine. I learned a long time ago you’re better off listening to your body; even if it makes no cognitive sense, than trying to force your body to listen to you.
When the body says rest…..rest. It contradicts a lot of what society tells you. It plays into a lot of mental health fears. I say….your body intuitively knows what it needs. Sometimes our bodies mechanisms need more rest, water, nurturing and attention than we give them. Always just assuming it is at our beckon call. That it is our slave and we are the master. This is how we get sick. This is how it starts to break down. Better to indulge it….not to excess, not to gluttony, but yes to recuperating, yes to nurturing….body, mind, spirit.
Everything else must fall to the side, temporarily. Which is so difficult for most people, let alone a mom, let alone a single mom. I refuse to feel guilty. Refuse!!! (I dost protest so loud…trying to also convince myself.)
One day…..one day….I’m not even going to say it. Nope not going to. New narrative***.
I don’t NEED a man. I want a man. I don’t need just any love. I need the right love. I don’t need sex. I…..
ummmm…. hold on…..it will come to me…..
It can wait. I can wait. No more frenzied fury….. let’s try a calm breeze of hope and dreamy ecstasy.
Sometimes I feel like a hopelessly melancholic, overemotional romantic and then also a really horny-ass gay man both stuck in one female body; each trying to grapple for what they desire; each wanting their needs met. I struggle to bridge the horrendously wide gap between them.
***quite obsessed with this word lately
I recognize that to say I don’t remember people’s names is a grave insult to some. That to almost everyone alive the sound of their own name is the best sound on earth, especially when it comes rolling out of the mouth of someone you love with a softness and adoration to it. I know.
I am mildly ashamed; I can admit it. It’s just not a skill I have….but I NEVER forget someones essence. A name is just words, just a made up reference for someone. Not to devalue it, but it isn’t the person. It just isn’t and that we attach so much honor to names and titled makes me laugh really….but I know I’m an odd duck.
Suppose I could work on that skill…. it would be beneficial…. but it’s not in my top 3 right now. It just isn’t. There is a used car salesmen component to forcing myself to remember people’s names. I’d rather remember their spirit; their nature, temperament, mood, movements, etc. That to me holds more importance, but try to tell that to someone when you’re struggling for their name. Lol