09 Aug i am enough from michel jackson
There. Will be a time. In your. Life. When you will be. Stripped bare. In ways you cannot. Imagine. There will be a time when the fire comes. For you. This is a story. About. Me. When my fire came. Calling. But it is. About. You. And us. Because. There is not one of us. That can. Escape. Our fires. When they come. And set our worlds. Ablaze.
There is this question. That I have heard people ask. What do you know for sure? And I would laugh. And think, how can you know anything for sure. But I knew this. He loved me. For twenty years. That was the one thing I held true to. I knew for sure. He loved me.
There were times. Of course. Because those times always come when you spend your life with someone. That challenge. And scare you. And you question. Can we do this? Can we ride this out? Is this what we really want? There is loss. There is illness. There is separation. There is death. And there are things that you cannot. Imagine. But there. Is. This. He loves. Me. And that was. What I knew for sure. For twenty years. Until, the fire came. For. Me.
My fire looked like this. A feeling. A burning. In my gut. My life was going to change. I knew it. My boy. My love. Was turning 13. He didn’t need me in the ways. He had. Before. My role. As his mama. I could see. Was changing.
My work. I had done for so long and had loved. Was falling away. I had lost interest. I was exhausted by it.
Our life. Together. As me and him. As husband and wife. I could see changing. I could see that too. Changing. We had made decisions that cost us. Everything. But the things I could see. Go. Our house. Our credit. The rocky road of the financial precipice we had dangled from. Forever. Was washed away. Finally. In one fell swoop. Those were the things. I could see. Burning. I thought I knew what my fires were. And were to be. And because I knew. He loved. Me. For sure. That is what I knew for sure. His leaving. Was the blaze. I could not see. That would come. To consume. Me.
Somewhere. Someone. Right now. Is leaving. A heart. Is breaking. In a million pieces. Shattering. Bones. Are being stripped bare.
Someone. Somewhere. Right now. Can’t breath. Is afraid. That she will never. Get up off the floor. Ever. Where she has collapsed. In a grief. That she did not know she was capable of experiencing. There are thoughts she is having that she could not. Imagine. Could belong. To her.
Somewhere. Someone. Right now. Has not slept. In days. Who has not eaten. Who can only. Get up. To take care of her child’s most basic. Necessities. And nothing else.
Somewhere. Someone. Right now. Has friends. Or family. And even strangers. Who have circled round. Her. And made sure the things. That have to be taken care of. Food. Shelter. Safety. Are taken care of. Until. She can. Get up. Off. That floor. And know. There is still further to go. She does not know that. Yet.
Because for. Someone. Somewhere. Right now. That fire. Has just begun to ignite.
I know this is my story. And it is not. Hers. These fires. Seem so different from afar. And we cannot believe. That anyone. Could possibly. Know and understand and still love her. Yes. And love. Her.
She thought the fire took with it. The one thing. She really does know. For sure.
That she is.
Michel lives in Portland, OR with her boy T. Her dog C. And Princess J the cat. She works as a freelance producer in film, tv and commercials. She promises it’s nothing like it seems. She is not a blogger but she blogs, she is not a writer but she writes, she is not a photographer but she takes pictures. All of which she loves and that you can find here. http://michelmjackson.com/
cathyPosted at 15:06h, 10 August
michel, this was beautiful, so powerful and raw. and the photo in the bathtub is brilliant and lovely, just as your are. xoxo