the Bitch in the house

I’ve been feeling awfully trapped as of late.  And it is a tad unlike me not to get out there and shake things up a bit… or grab the world by the tail as a songwriter philosopher once observed about people like me.  And maybe the stuck feeling is precisely the angst I need to muck rack through before I jettison off to the next fabulous thing.  Because the truth is that despite all of the calamities I have found myself in, plain simple fact of the matter is that I have adventured forth.  Maybe my sallying off led me right where I never expected to be, but it was my own essay that has led me to the place that I am today.

And it is not a tragic place – by most folks’ standards – anyway.  And the one thing I would like is for my kids to have some sensibility of who they are without the fear of doom banging down their childhoods. I have not quite been able to prevent all the trauma of modern family from intruding upon their dreams, but I have worked hard to be the one stable and rock solid love in their lives.

So though I may not feel as though I am leading that glamorous experience I envisioned for myself, and though I have   been hindered along the way toward an Oz I thought I wanted; I have met some really amazing people, done some fiendishly daring deeds and dragged myself – by sheer will – to a place where I can be that   stronghold from which my children’s lives will spring.  Even though some days it is hard to remember what I am doing here, in this house, on this block, in this city – I can always ponder what my life would be like if I had taken a different turn along the way somewhere and it doesn’t seem right somehow, that I should be there and not right here where I am.