aisha

In an hour or so, I’ll actually be “on the road again…” so i have to sing a few bars of it as i go.

i love to travel.

When i was in my early 20’s, i thought i might want to be a gypsy.  

Where-i-Live is actually pretty small, in some ways, and i had begun to feel like every where i went, someone knew me.  i was tired of going to the grocery and hearing someone call my name.  It might be someone i went to high school with, or someone i used to babysit for, an old teacher, or an ex-boyfriend.  i was tired of it.

i wanted to go someplace no one knew me.

I packed up my car, a little white Mustang i’d bought used, and left home.  The plan was to travel til i started getting low on money, then get a job for a while, and move on.

i was waiting tables back then, so it wasn’t a completely unreasonable plan.

i drove through Tennessee, across North Carolina, ended up in Florida.  i crisscrossed my way through the state for about a month, til i ended up, as one invariably would, in Key West.

i loved Key West.

But.

 i had discovered that traveling in the US is not like traveling in Europe.  In Europe, if i was standing in front of some monument, or fountain or statue, i could comment to the family next to me that it was beautiful, or so cool, and they’d agree and we’d chat a little, and it was all warm and friendly.

That didn’t happen in the States.  At least in the ’70’s, for me, it just didn’t work.  If i said something out loud, i think people thought i was crazy, and they were more likely to move away from me.

So i got lonesome.  Probably i would have anyhow.  But as much as i enjoyed the trip, it began to seem that the only people interested in me were single men who were not so interested in discussing the scenery.

Sigh.

So i ended up in Key West wishing that someone knew my name.

And i was getting low on money. 

i had to make a decision.  What did i want to do?

i tried to be reasonable, i weighed the pros and cons – but i just kept thinking, “i need to be where someone knows my name.”

So i headed home.  Drove straight through, whizzing past places i’d explored on the way down.

Laughing… so i didn’t become a gypsy.  But this morning, as i get ready to go back to Florida, i remember those days.  And i hum a few bars ~~

“On the road again…”

i watched this and laughed out loud.

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/tue-june-7-2011/rash-of-penis-photos?

We kinky women may appreciate the sight of a lovely penis “popping up” on our iPhones ~ um, so to speak ~ but not all women feel that way.   This was a funny commentary from a woman who represents a more vanilla perspective…

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We buried my mom yesterday; spent hours afterwards, drinking wine and telling stories.  She had a long life, full of adventure.  A good life.  She would have hated having Alzheimer’s, hated the way her life was restricted, hated being dependent.   i know that she’s in a better place now.    

Today, i have my first therapy client in my private practice.

Tomorrow night, i’ll be in Florida.  

Life is good.

…of my mother.  A friend of mine shared this prayer with me last night at the funeral home, which was as close to a celebration of my mother’s life as you can get.  May she rest in peace.

Native American Prayer

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

        I am not there.

        I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glint on the snow.

I am the sunlight-ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain,

When you wake in the morning hush.

I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the oft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

        I am not there.

        I do not sleep.

My Mama breathed her last this morning, and still the relief that she’s not suffering is stronger than the grief.  Alzheimer’s takes away those we love a little piece at a time; at the end, there is only a shell, and brief glimpses of who she once was.

i was with her when she breathed her last, peacefully slipping away while i re-read Nora Roberts “The Key of Light.”  Comfort reading it was, looking up every few paragraphs, til i looked up and she was not breathing.  

i’m not alone.  My sister and my daughter are here for me, cousins, friends and co-workers have been kind. 

But the amazing silver lining has been youall.  The stories you’ve shared about your experiences, the e-mail, the comments, the prayers, and the love you’ve shown have made me feel so good. 

Through youall, i feel connected – connected to those of you who i know – but also connected to every one.  The loss of a parent is such a universal experience, and yet each person’s story is unique.  You made me see that.

 i have felt held and comforted every step of this journey.    

i wish you were all here, so i could hug you.  Instead I can just say “Thank you.”

So i was tired last night; it was late, and i was weary.

You know, if you read me regularly, that my mother is dying.  This last week the pace has increased, so i’m not working, i’m spending time with her, and taking care of myself, and doing things that need to be done.  And i was tired last night.

i heard from MoR, which was so nice.  i had e-mailed him to tell him about my mom a couple of days ago, but he didn’t have internet, so then yesterday, he sends me 5 separate e-mails, which is like having 5 gift-wrapped packages to open.     i answer his messages, think about how good it feels to hear from him.

i IM with BNL for just a little bit.  

Then i go for a walk, which helps work some of the kinks out of my body. {O, not good kinks, the i’m-getting-old-and sitting-too-long kinks.}  i don’t know what i need more, to be held or to be spanked.  Possibly both at the same time.  MoR says later, “a really good whipping would do you the most good…..something about the physicality of it relieves the pain…..its strange….but it works…..”

i am thinking about bondage too, as i walk, and being contained, and how nice that would feel.  i feel ~ at loose ends.  It might be nice not to be able to move at all for a little bit.  To be held tightly.

After i get home, and just as i’m  thinking “bed, for real”, the phone rings.  

It’s TLM.

His voice is like honey.  It pours over me, and something inside me relaxes.  It doesn’t really matter that he hasn’t called sooner, he’s not obligated to.  He has called now.

We chat, mostly about him.  He tells me he’s a “terrible workaholic” and in his accent, it sounds like a good thing, even though i know better.  i think this is his apology for not calling, as he goes on to talk about getting caught up in work and losing track of time.

Then we talk a little about his son, who’s coming to visit, and his business plans.  He tells me some things he’s thinking about doing, and i make supportive noises.  

He says he’s praying for guidance, and from some people that would sound – annoying {sorry, it just would} and maybe it’s the accent, but it doesn’t ~ it just sounds right.  

“I talk to people,” he says, “When i want to do something, and I pray, and then I hold still.  I wait, and I listen before I decide.”

i am mesmerized by the voice, and the accent.  i don’t know if he’s from Jamaica, or Belize, or where, but it’s the soft, buttery flow of reggae music, and it’s hard to understand unless i catch the rhythm just right.  Then it is crystal clear, like riding waves…

He apologizes for calling so late, and promises to do better.  And then i say,

“My mother is dying.”

Just blurt it out, just like that. 

“O,” he says, “O, yes, that is so hard.”  He pauses a moment.  Then he says,

“I talk to you now just as a friend, just as a friend, there is not much one can say.  But I know, my father, he died.  And he died a long time ago, but I remember.  I am glad that he lived, glad that he is not suffering pain now, no more pain, and I am glad for the things that he taught me, the things that I learned as a little child because of who he is…”

And i’m just listening, and nodding.  He goes on,

“So i send you that feeling, and that energy, i give some of that to you, now,” he says.

And his words are what i need at that moment.  They do transfer some energy into me…

He finishes, “So if you want to get together, after 8:00 some night, maybe for an hour, maybe to do something simple, because I am a simple man, you come.  We get together.  Or if you want to talk, you call me.  I will call you, but if you want to talk, you call me.”

And something inside me unknots.  

 i am in liminal time with my mother – betwixt and between life and death.  She see things, points to the ceiling, hums and smiles to herself sometimes.  i don’t know where she is, but i am there with her, as best i can be.

I am so grateful for so many people who’ve touched me in so many ways ~ and some of them are you who are reading this right now.  i am so grateful.  My friends who send messages, who make me cry and make me smile.  

i still don’t know who TLM is, what he’s about.  But last night, he touched my heart, with his voice and his words, he laid a hand on my heart.

i am grateful.

So i’ve been chatting on yahoo, and am getting a little stirred up.  

That statement really doesn’t lead anywhere, it’s just there.  

In case you were wondering, i haven’t heard from TLM since Monday night.  You know, i told you i called him Monday afternoon and talked for just a few minutes?  Well, when i talked to him Monday night, he said,

“I told you I would call tonight, didn’t I?”

Of course, i said, “Yes, you did.”

He says, “And see – I did.”  

i say, “Yes,” but i have no idea what he means.  Does he mean, see I did what I said, like he’s really proving how trustworthy he is?  Or does he mean, “You didn’t need to call me this afternoon?”  Cause right before that, he said, “You called me this afternoon.”   But there was an interruption inbetween – some fireworks going off, someone taking to him.

So really, he said, “You called me, I told you I’d call you.” 

Whatever.  The last thing he said on Monday was “I will call you.”   And he hasn’t.

Don’t start.  I’m not calling him.  He didn’t say, “Call me,” he said, “I’ll call you.”

If he’s a Dom, he meant exactly that.  If he’s not, then there’s not much reason to call him anyhow.

And anyhow –

i’ve been chatting on yahoo with this Dom.  BNL, i’ll call him.  We haven’t met, so you know, i’m not getting my hopes too far up, but there’s some on-line chemistry.

He might be the ice cream i’ve been seeking, Donna.  Maybe TLM was just the sample spoon to whet my appetite.    We’ll see.  

But when i was talking to him this morning, to BNL, he said some things, approached me in some ways, that have left me pretty wet.  Times he actually made my pussy clench.  Nice to have that feeling again.

Sbf recently described her first submissvie experience.  She ended her post by saying: