A Map of Being Lost

"You are here."

But where is here, oh yellow dot? Where is that pinpoint that you so helpfully highlighted? Perhaps where you are, on the map, you know where here is. Perhaps you understand the meaning of the squiggly lines and topographical designs. If this is true then you are the only one. You are the only one who knows what it means to be here.

The only one who knows...that seemed to be the theme of her life. How many other people had been in this exact situation? How many other single, only children of divorce had to help their mother struggle with dementia? If there were any she didn't know them and if there were any she wasn't sure she wanted to meet them.

"You are here, no one else is. Sucky time to not know how to read a map."

She was pretty sure that had been the right direction. She thought for sure that she had been heading south and was definitely headed toward an exit. However, the new "you are here" dot seemed to disagree. Somehow she was further in the woods and had three options to choose from. Most people would take this moment to make a Robert Frost joke and go merrily on their way, but she had a mission. She was determined to understand the map. After five minutes of intense staring she realized that it is not merely enough to just stare at the map and hope for divine intervention,one must have some idea of where to start. The only thing she understood now was that she was lost, but that was her normal. Being sure, that was the unusual.

"Ironic, I'm more lost than ever, but I've found myself at least a thousand times."

She had found herself sharing feelings and thoughts with people, a place she had never been before. Suddenly she was opening up about why she was angry, sad, or crying. Other people were helping to carry her burden. Never had she found herself here before, she put down a flag.

She found herself admitting defeat. When the disease began to change the memories in her mother's head she didn't fight it. She didn't offer up corrections or try to remind her mother of the truth; there are some battles you will always lose. She knew that now and she marked that lesson with a flag.

She found herself to be a mother; the most interesting of accidental discoveries. Here she was, 23 and a mother of a 55 year old. Suddenly she was the one with the power, the wisdom and the pocketbook. She scheduled doctor appointments, bought clothing, discussed housing and financial aid with a committee of people looking to help her make the best choices. She picked up this new baggage and marked its arrival with a flag.

She found herself lost. Not the familiar lost where she physically had no clue of where to go; no, this was new and different and it crushed her. In this lost there wasn't a constant fear, in fact if she was busy or distracted it was easy to give in, just ask Alice how comfortable it is in Wonderland. Its easy for those who wonder to forget they are lost. But then it would hit her again. She would remember and the world lost it's color. She had found herself lost and she had never been more scared. 

This time there was no flag.

The marker -

A disheartened figure,  beaten by the rain.

Clocks Make the Best Metaphors

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Its funny, how often clocks are used in stories. Perhaps they are a metaphor for a person's life or a tool used to show days going by in a movie, the hands rapidly circling the face. But this clock has no face. Only black and white numbers flipping with every passing minute. This clock, the one that shows the date, the time, and the day of the week, is not special. It's not a talking clock that helps the subject understand some life lesson, it does not sing or dance in a french castle. The only aspect of this clock that makes it special is its name.

Brand New Alzheimer's Clock!

• Brand new Alzheimer's clock for sale. 
• Date, Time, and Day
• Only $59.99

"I have to buy it, The Mother needs it" she thought to herself, hoping that if she ignored the name it would indeed, simply be a clock.

In that moment she wasn't sure what was more strange: calling her mom "The Mother" or buying a clock for this stranger her mom had become. She decided it was the later and put in her credit card information.

The clock itself was not the issue. In fact, she had thought about buying herself one as well, but on further reflection realized that was why she had a cell phone. No, it was not the clock's fault that its presence made her want to cry, but rather its very crude and obvious name. Alzheimer's clock...why would they name it that? Its bad enough that the family has to deal with the Alzheimer's or any other form of dementia, bu then to name the clock after the disease. That was the horrific part.

She stared at the order form in her inbox and the name teased her, reminding her of the reality that had not yet sunk in. It was easier when she could blame the medication, the seizures, the broken shoulders, or anything other than her own mother's brain. But the dreadfully named clock being shipped to her made it clear; time could not go backward and neither could her mother's mind.

Her mother's mind, much like the old antique clocks one finds on a mantle in their grandmother's house, was frozen. There was no room for new minutes or new hours, time would not go on. New memories would not be marked with the cheerful ticking of a second hand...there was nowhere for them to go.

A Story in Progress, part one. Braided essay format.

She had lost it.

Similar to the way one looses her keys or her hat; she had forgotten. It was as if she had set it down, only for a moment, turned away at the call of her name...only to find it gone. She didn't lose it on purpose, she hadn't even been aware she was at risk of losing it, but here she was and it was gone.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster 

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. 

The art of losing isn’t hard to master. 

Elizabeth Bishop knew how it was. How easy it is to lose all the things that you hold onto as if your life depends on them. This isn't a new experience for our subject, she lost things every minute. But this time there was no one to help her find what was lost. No one knew how she had lost it and no one understood where it could have gone. Much like the keys set down on a table. Poof. As if they never existed. 

"Keys, where are my keys?"

"I'll look, give me your purse. Give me your purse! Let me look. It's faster if I do it."

Her daughter had long ago stopped playing the game. When she had been little they would laugh about how quickly items disappeared in the house. They would joke and blame the dog, blame the elves, blame the angels. But eventually the truth was found and continued to show up during the searches. The truth was, the items weren't lost. They were forgotten. And this caused fear in her daughter's heart. 

Growing up doesn't cause children to lose faith in magic.

No, it's the presence of reality sinking in

opening their eyes to the truth.

Truth drives out the magic-

emptying them .

It is important to note some children empty faster than others.

This is Why No One Writes Songs About Being 23

"What do you want?"
"What can I get you?"
"What are you doing?"
"What are you looking for?"
"What things are you interested in for your future?"


I'm 23 and these are the five questions that are controlling my life. Lately this is how I've been answering them.


"A sandwich."
"That sandwich."
"Watching my life fall apart at the hands of fate."
"A nice billionaire who can allow me to not have to make big life altering decisions that will haunt me forever...or a nice, funny, cute guy."
"I just need a job, okay? I can't think about the next hour without needing to find the nearest couch and roll into a ball; don't ask about my future."


Or at least that is how I would answer them if my life was a teen movie/sitcom and I was the quirky, loudmouth girl who says everything that pops into her head. But its not. This is not a Netflix comedy and my answers mean something; so why can't I think of any?


The first people I blame are adults. The ones who say "You can be anything you want if you work hard enough."


This is not true. Here's a list of everything I can't be no matter how hard I try.

1. Any animal that's not a human
2. An act of nature; storms, cloud, etc.
3. An type of plant life
4. A priest

And lastly, a mathematician.


Look parents, past teachers, and strangers on the street! Right there! There are five things I cannot be, so lets stop telling people that they can be anything. But, I know this isn't all your fault.


Most of the blame falls on my head.


I believed you. I seriously thought that if I worked hard enough I could be anything...and believing that made me imagine every possibility so that I no longer know which path to take. There are too many roads untraveled, I want the one that will make the difference. But it has to be the right difference.


I need to know which path will lead to happiness, to success, to my own personal utopia. There are just too many paths, too many possible dead ends that I'm scared to even choose left or right.


I'm 23. I've reached what I used to consider "adulthood." I'm supposed to be running my life and know all the answers, at least that's what I used to believe, so why am I constantly being questioned. Why am I constantly plagued by questions? When does it get easier? How long are people so unsure? And lastly what...is your quest?

Icarus

Am I throwing myself off a cliff?
Diving into this unknown...but what is known is there is no safety net at the bottom of this jump. There is no hand stretched out to guide and save me. This is all on me. Have I melted all the wax off of my wings? Have I been to the sun and now I fall into the water, flames embracing my body? Or have I not gone far enough...does space still wait for me. If I jump - is it possible I'll do more than float, but I could fly. I could climb, soaring into the stars, the clouds, the air.



I'm running. I'm fleeing. I need to escape, to cut myself free. I need to jump.

And suddenly it's all new.

The world is color I have never seen.
Grass fresh from under the snow,
Light too bright to love, to warm to despise.

Suddenly I am new.

I am flying and falling all at once,
terrified to be so excited.
Excited to feel so strongly.

I float until I accelerate.
Entering a new.

What's in a legacy?

Hamilton, every good blog that even has the word theater in it has a Hamilton post right? 

Alexander Hamilton came to America knowing what he wanted; he was going to write his way out of poverty and create a legacy. Guess who knew what his number one talent was and how to use it to be successful?  "Alexander Hamilton, my name is Alexander Hamilton."

But what about us? The founding people of the United States of America, circa 2017? How do we reach success? Most of us have gone to liberal arts schools and have a number of talents we could use in our life, which do we pick? Which skill is going to help me get my face on a piece of money or Lin Manuel Miranda to write a play about me?

As I finished the application, aforementioned in my last blog, I found myself wondering...what if I'm wrong?

What if I shouldn't be a communication major who loves theater? What if my skills aren't natural enough, not good enough? What if with this click of the submit I'm ruining my life? Did I throw away my shot?

Currently I'm a daycare teacher and a pretty good one if you ask the right people. What if this is where my legacy lies? But here's the thing about legacies; they out live you. You never know if your legacy is going to be successful because you'll be dead by the time it's created.

"A garden you never get to see." I don't know a lot about gardening, but the few I have had I've planted a thousand seeds and hoped for one to grow. I have it wrong now...a legacy isn't just about one skill, 

Alexander Hamilton knew he was a good writer, but he didn't limit himself to only writing. He led troops, he worked in office, he raised children. He did not have only one shot. He had many that he never threw away. He looked at them all without fear, wearing his glasses, and he faced them. 

If you want to create a legacy then the only thing you can't do is limit yourself. You aren't given one specific skill, one perfect seed that will bloom into the perfect flower. A garden isn't one flower, it's a thousand working together to create something beautiful. 

I've planted my legacy as a teacher, it's time to add onto this garden. It's time to make it flourish and more beautiful. Maybe these new seeds won't grow into anything, but what kind of gardener would I be if I didn't take a risk?

(I would be Aaron Burr, that's the answer).

Photo Credit:

Hamilton: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/473311-im-not-throwing-away-my-shot

 Legacy by Grrrenadine.deviantart.com on @DeviantArt