Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

TRDC: A Sister's Scar of Love


Writing Prompt: Memory and Reflection
Our memories are powerful—whether they actually happened the way we remember them isn’t as important as what we remember and why. So something I would like you to try this week is to hone in on a memory and then interrogate it. One way to incorporate more reflection in your writing is to constantly be asking yourself questions.

This is a writing exercise in two parts:

Part I
Make a list of some of your most vivid childhood (or more recent) memories. (Maybe it’s an image of your father or mother doing something they did regularly; maybe it’s a visit to a grandmother’s house.)

Jot down a few memories and then pick one and write it down in as much detail as possible. (Take 10-15 minutes to do that…)

Part II
Now I want you to investigate what this memory means to you. Ask yourself the following questions: Why has this stuck with me? What did this mean to me at the time? Why did I (or someone else in the scene) react the way I (they) did? How does it feel to look back on it? How does it still affect me (or not)? (Take 10-15 minutes to do that.)

__________________________________________________________
She stood and looked at the mark I just left on her as one thousand emotions scattered across her eyes. Her mouth worked itself into a scream and I knew I had crossed the line. My twin sister and I had been in more than a thousand fights by now, but this one had turned into something more serious. I can't tell you how old we were at this point or what we were fighting about, although I am pretty sure that she remembers. After all, she's the one that still bears the physical scar 20 plus years later.

I stood and held the hot curling iron still in my hand as the scorched smell of burnt skin filled the small bathroom upstairs at my Granny's house. I can't remember if I started apologizing or stood there defiant in my action. I do remember the sinking feel that I had just caused her an unjust amount of pain and I felt sick at what I had done. I was also very aware of not just the amount of pain she was in but the unique position of power she held over me. I had been warned and punished numerous times for my hot temper. I had been told that I took things too far, but in my defense I rarely started any of the fights we had. I did end them though, by whatever means necessary.

The moment was on top of us now. The moment that silent scream was going to find its voice and my Granny's wrath and disappointment would color our short visit with her. My sister had to have known that the minute she screamed and pointed the finger at me I would be in a deeper trouble than I had ever seen. I looked at her and suddenly realized as our Granny loomed over us that she had been screaming. Somehow as fear had begun to run through my veins, I had become deaf to the cries that had already begun. Granny's eyes flew wide as she examined the burn that was the same length of the curling iron and thankfully I had already put the weapon down so there was no immediate smoking gun to alert her of my guilty role. As she herded us up to take us down to the drugstore immediately for some salve, it began to soak in that my sister had said it was an accident. She never pointed the finger at me that I deserved.

One the car ride to the drugstore Granny worried and fretted over the injury, my sister cried with the pain and I sat in numbed silence.

Why had she not pointed me out? 
Was she just waiting until my parents arrived to pick us up and then let the guillotine fall upon my shameful, guilty head? 
What was her angle? 

It was at that moment that she turned around and delivered a slight, sympathetic smile to me. We were never those types of twins that you hear about that share feelings or could read minds, but that whisper of a smile told me that she was not going to rat me out. She forgave me and was going to keep my evil deed a secret. She forgave me. I hadn't asked for it and I didn't deserve it.
20 something years later and we have since told my parents what really happened. They learned of the fight that caused the scar the way that adult children reveal truths to their parents in a laugh about it being the past. I'm sure my parents were horrified, but it is the past. We fought many times since that day and we still get into arguments, but that day I learned of a true sister's love and forgiveness. She knew the "pain" that I would have received for such a horrendous action against her and she choose to shield me from it. She choose to carry the pain and suffering by herself.

I can't tell you that moment changed our relationship forever, but every time we are together these days and I catch a glimpse of that scar I am reminded. I am reminded that sometimes no matter how bad it hurts that there are those people in our lives that we love so much that we are willing to suffer for them. We bear the burden of their pain and shield them. We discern that they deserve a touch that is severe and we muster up a small smile that tells them that they are forgiven based only on the love we share. My sister has a scar that was created from my anger, but is more of a symbol of a sister's love.

Monday, February 14, 2011

We are way past that fluffy heart thing...

Sometimes the whole squishy fluffy heart ordeal of Valentine's Day gets to me. By "gets to me", I mean throw up in my mouth a little and roll my eyes. Especially the commercials for jewelry companies. Way to make light of my love by throwing a little you must purchase bling out there. It's as if my love isn't real if I am not in a remote cabin during a thunderstorm with my man there to wrap his arms around me and slide a chain around my neck....wait...doesn't that sound a lot like a slasher film?
 
Anyways, my man and I...we are way past that fluffy heart thing. We've moved past the conversation heart that says "Love ya" and into the screaming from the bathroom when the paper roll is empty, "I need you!!"

I think the "I need you!!" phase is so much more indicative of true love, lasting love.

"I need you!!" (the kids just flushed a wonder pet, whole roll of toilet paper and my wallet. I'm now standing ankle deep in some sort of sludge that is making my skin crawl. Actually I think something is crawling around down here.)

"I need you!!" (I thought I would hang some curtains and somehow I got twisted around to where I am stuck on a ladder with fabric swirled around my head.)

"I need you!!" (I just suffered a finger slice from the kitchen knife you keep way too sharp and although I am not going to bleed to death here, I need to be over dramatic and get a band-aid)

"I need you!!" (I'm standing in the parking lot of a huge store and actually forgot where I parked the car. I've been wandering the aisles for 20 minutes in the rain and just needed you to remind me to hit the stupid panic button on the car remote. Oh...look that blinking, honking car 3 spaces over is mine.)

"I need you!!" (I was walking up the stairs with our dinner from take-out and my water just broke. We should go to the hospital. What do you mean you are going to eat first...seriously???)

This is not my husband either nor a depiction of my husband - Google Images

The romantic gestures are just that....a gesture. When you have been married for a while you need more than a gesture; you need ACTION. That's where the "I need you" part comes in. It's about the rise to action. I know that I am loved more than ever because my husband is constantly in ACTION for me. Rising to the occasion. White knight on a charging steed. Battling dragons and evil queens (alright...so we still have issues with the mother-in-law from time to time) All that good jazz that requires love to be more than just words.

This is not my husband but Google Images - Thankyouverymuch


I know that if there is ever a time that I am stuck in the bathtub again screaming like a banshee "I NEED YOU!!!" he will be there. Laughing, pointing, getting the video camera for YouTube....but he will be there. (True story: I was 9 months pregnant and thought soaking in baby oil would stop a case of itching skin. I'll just let you imagine that one for a minute...you're welcome.) I know that we are way past the fluffy heart thing and into ACTION love.

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