rain on the window
Growing up I had probably the smallest yet loveliest bedroom in NJ. My room was painted light pink with the most amazing hot pink trim. The floor was hardwood and the bedroom furniture wasnt a "set" but they were all painted to match. My bed was against the wall and the foot of the bed was at the window. My Mom would come in before I fell asleep and sit at the edge and we would say prayers together. Typical Our Father, Hail Mary, and then the "God Blesses" I would God Bless everyone. I didnt want her to leave. I would end up blessing the neighbors, my teachers, the animals I knew and didnt know. And then last but not least we would say. "And God bless Suzie and help make her a good girl."
That was the end of the day. I would close the day by praying to be a good girl.
I remembered that the other night as I said prayers with Jack.
I also could smell rain long before it arrived. Missi said last night its gonna rain soon. The sky was clear no clouds just summerlike stars. She said I know rain when I smell it. I understood that. Then she said I sleep next to the window mom and I know all the sounds of the neighborhood and the smells of the seasons and its gonna rain soon.
Sure as shit it rained half an hour later.
Reminded me of lying in my bed and listening to the radio that hung from the bedpost. Window open and hearing cars flying down Millburn Ave. So far away but I could hear them. The trains rolling by on their way to NYC. I didnt know that was cool until I moved away. I had trains less than 50 yards from the house and I never recall being bothered by them. I do remember knowing what time it was by the train schedule.
That is literally the wrong side of the tracks.
But I didnt know it. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. My pink room that always was warm and clean. There was never a dark corner of that house. Always a nightlight or glow from somewhere. I am so sure if I went back to the house on Myrtle ave my stuff would still be there. Milkbox on the front steps, trophy case full of stuff, shoes, schoolbooks, and ashtrays.
Handmade stuff from each of the four kids proudly displayed on every table top or bookshelf. Then the best room in the house. Mom and Dads bedroom. Cant sleep? lie on their bed. The most peaceful, loving place in all the world is in their room, on their bed. It wasnt like my bed where you go to watch tv or read, no their bed was made impeccably everyday, you only went there to sleep. The best sleep you can imagine was on that bed. I could sleep in that bed only on nights my dad was at the firehouse. Two nights a week. Sleep next to my mom and smell her smell. Best thing ever.
That bed is now here in PA. They slept in that bed for all of their years of marriage. 47 years. I still lay on it when Im distorted, sad, or just nostalgic.
Except now I am searching for Dads smell. It is long gone, I think my Mom soaked it all up. I dont blame her. I get in his closet to get his smell, I breathe deep and try to catch some of him for a second. It is almost gone, I soaked it all up.
That was the end of the day. I would close the day by praying to be a good girl.
I remembered that the other night as I said prayers with Jack.
I also could smell rain long before it arrived. Missi said last night its gonna rain soon. The sky was clear no clouds just summerlike stars. She said I know rain when I smell it. I understood that. Then she said I sleep next to the window mom and I know all the sounds of the neighborhood and the smells of the seasons and its gonna rain soon.
Sure as shit it rained half an hour later.
Reminded me of lying in my bed and listening to the radio that hung from the bedpost. Window open and hearing cars flying down Millburn Ave. So far away but I could hear them. The trains rolling by on their way to NYC. I didnt know that was cool until I moved away. I had trains less than 50 yards from the house and I never recall being bothered by them. I do remember knowing what time it was by the train schedule.
That is literally the wrong side of the tracks.
But I didnt know it. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. My pink room that always was warm and clean. There was never a dark corner of that house. Always a nightlight or glow from somewhere. I am so sure if I went back to the house on Myrtle ave my stuff would still be there. Milkbox on the front steps, trophy case full of stuff, shoes, schoolbooks, and ashtrays.
Handmade stuff from each of the four kids proudly displayed on every table top or bookshelf. Then the best room in the house. Mom and Dads bedroom. Cant sleep? lie on their bed. The most peaceful, loving place in all the world is in their room, on their bed. It wasnt like my bed where you go to watch tv or read, no their bed was made impeccably everyday, you only went there to sleep. The best sleep you can imagine was on that bed. I could sleep in that bed only on nights my dad was at the firehouse. Two nights a week. Sleep next to my mom and smell her smell. Best thing ever.
That bed is now here in PA. They slept in that bed for all of their years of marriage. 47 years. I still lay on it when Im distorted, sad, or just nostalgic.
Except now I am searching for Dads smell. It is long gone, I think my Mom soaked it all up. I dont blame her. I get in his closet to get his smell, I breathe deep and try to catch some of him for a second. It is almost gone, I soaked it all up.
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