Tag Archives: Responsibility

Demon Lover

You were my demon
always controlling
demanding your opinions
become mine

Rewrite my script
no longer my Mother’s
dictates, my Father
following meekly behind
making her choose,
decide, direct –
didn’t she ever tire
of all the wretched decisions
in her impossible world.

Yet here I was
meekly following
with a stirring of resistance
that refused to rise
to the surface –
just let him make decisions
then he has the blame
when they fail.

I was so culpable
gullible, tortured,
yet wielding
the whip –
demanding his choice
falling on my own sword.

The pattern continued
for so long
now broken,
but so are the dreams.
I am responsible,
but I lost so much
to gain myself.

Driving Miss Debbie

Here I am . . . 60.  Don’t feel like I’m 60; don’t often act like I’m 60 ( How is a 60 year old supposed to act?); just know I have a physical body that is ancient combined with the emotional standing of a teenager.

The car had an accident a couple of days ago.  It was strictly at fault.  The fact that I was an idiot going just a little too fast and happened to glance (seriously, no more) at the phone, was of no accord.  Trouble is . . . it is the 3rd accident in less than a year. My family is having “serious talks” with me about whether I should hand in keys and take the bus in a not too public transportation friendly town.  Besides which, I am a home health aide /CNA and have cases all over the area, almost all out of town.  Some cases are 2 hours, some 10, some early morning, some not ending until the evening – how can I not have a car? Unless my very poor self can do a “driving Miss Daisy” kind of thing.

Then I have to contend with Social Security Disability.  I work very part time – generally 2 days week. Yet there are times when I fill in for someone one vacation which seems to put me over the top of allowed earnings – not by much, but the totals add up.  And as I have been exceedingly poor in Mathematics since birth (couldn’t count the slats on the crib until I was twelve), running over is easy.

I need a keeper.  Just like the olden days when women sat around and embroidered – not that I could do that either.  Its gross motor movements for me.