I don’t consider myself severely talented in very many things. My dad asked me when I was a kid if I’d rather be great at one thing, or good at many, and I chose the latter and followed through as I grew older. I didn’t focus my time on any one thing (besides ballet, but if you just want to know the steps that fit with the french words it takes a ton of time, much less actually doing any good once you have some idea of the motion). Anyway, my mind’s eye has always been at a feast of options, so I nibble a little bit of this and a little bit of that so that I can be adequate in many different conversations
However, in the past bit of my life, I have discovered a quiet and insanely useless talent which I happen to the be master of. It doesn’t do very much good to the world, but I want to tell you about it anyway.
Sometimes I feel extremely out of touch with my life, and myself, and my everything. It’s like the whole wide world is skewed, not exactly wrong, but just a hair of not exactly right. I think it must be the moments that I realize that I am totally out of control when it comes to my life right now. The military doesn’t leave a lot of leeway for options like whether or not my husband can come home for dinner, or whether or not he can come home for Christmas. Its not up to me, it never was, and there is nothing that either of us can do to change that right now. This is a wave that crashes over my mind if I don’t focus on continuously swimming away from it. but lately, I have this new … unasked for wavelength which comes to my aid like a life tube from a ship. The wave will be mid crash, and the seconds always seem like they are running in carcrash time and then I close my eyes to blink… and I am in France. Seriously, it happens every single time. But I’m not always in france, sometimes its England, or the old back trail that was across from my house before the neighborhood came and claimed my woods. Sometimes I am with my siblings on Christmas morning. It always only lasts a second, the time of a blink. But the perfect images come up… exactly as they were when I last saw them. Lavender fields — and the smell is almost warming. Farmers markets, a basket on my arm. The sea in Cassis, the roar of Niagra … they are so incredibly real and there, that the horror of “uncontrollable” vanishes into a mist, the wave doesn’t break.
It’s a new occurance, only months old now. But I can see the Lance Corporal waiting for me on our wedding day, his mom closing his eyes, my Dad on my arms. I can see his face looking down on me, even though I was in my highest heels.
Is it imagination if it’s only places you’ve been before? And how is it that suddenly I have memories I haven’t thought to remember — some for months — some for over a decade.
I call it magic, because it kindles my heart, the coldest moments grow spring flowers again. Only happy memories come, a blinding and warming light. Out of control could not be out of control if God can still bring all these moments to life.
(sorry that was a rant, I was sent home sick today and the Lance Corporal and I are about to call it a night. I’ll patch it later)