On this, the anniversary of my mother's birth, I ate toast.
I used to never write daylogs, however I find it important to my sanity to
make this day known.
My mother and I share no lost love. She sees me as
whatever she wants her son to be. I see her as the last remnant of whatever is
was they wanted me to be.
She woke me up today and announced a trip to the beach had
been planned. A wonderful day just me and my beloved parents; watching the
Pacific Ocean for 8 hours. Then she said that I didn't have to go; because she
knew that I hated just lying on the beach. A surprise to me, seeing as on most
of her birthdays I have to enjoy the activity planned no matter what. With a
forced happy birthday hug and a melancholy tone, I declined the offer. I stayed
in bed as my parents got ready and left for Laguna Beach.
I called up my friend Michael, who had previously
planned a song writing session for the two of us on this day, and told him I
would be able to attend after all. He picked me up at 11:30 AM, and after a
short stop at the hardware store we proceeded to his house.
Michael has a sister with whom I have
been courting for 2 months. As soon as I got to their house, I went upstairs to
see her; however she was cleaning. Disappointed, I went back down stairs.
Michael and I decided to set up and practice in the
garage. There we stayed for 2 hours, plucking out authentic ditties along with
some Chuck Berry. Michaels sister came in occasionally to get a mop or put
some rags in the basin. It was as ordinary a day as possible, and the laid back
feel of it was too pronounced to be just that. It was lunch time.
Around 2 PM, I went inside and made lunch for myself and
Michaels' sister. Chicken Top Ramen and toast it was, and it was damned good
too. She and I went upstairs to the room her and her sister share, and laid out
a blanket and pillow on the floor. Standard procedure, we had done it a 20 times
before. We kissed a couple times. Lazily, we watched the fan blades whirl on the
ceiling, and the tree outside her window shake with the stirring of the birds.
Casual and broken conversation lingered, as it always did between the two of us.
We share a need for silent exchange, sent from our eyes and our fingertips. I
rested my head on her stomach. As I munched my toast away, slowly littering
crumbs onto her shirt, there was a peace I had known before, but never this
On this, the anniversary of my mother's birth, I fell in love.