dirt, music and the police

Note: found this unpublished. It’s from the weekend.

Today, mostly, was for me. 

Crap and more crap aside. I was determined to make today mine. 

I dug outside in the dirt. I dug out frustration, hatred, loneliness, despair. I dug it all out of the ground and planted beautiful creeping phlox in its place. I have more plants yet to be put down. They will have to wait until tomorrow. There are more feelings to work through.

Mother Nature had her own feelings and plans for tonight. I watched the sky as I dug and sifted the weeds from the dirt, I listened to the thunder as I spread the mulch and tucked in my plants and when I decided to quit, pack up, put away, it broke loose. I made it inside in time to watch Her rain angry rain, big drops and hail. Lighting like strobe lights and thunder that rattled the doors of the house.

“Why is Mother Nature so angry?” My son asked, sitting on my lap, watching the storm with me. I couldn’t tell him. I made up answers like Donald Trump and Pollution. He didn’t buy it. He was waiting for me to say “because you and daddy are splitting up”.

I had more time to myself tonight. Husband distracts himself, like he always has, with TV and so my son and him, are watching a movie, delving into whatever reality is better than this.

It really gives me more time to Be Me. Gin and Tonic aside, I got my real drug of choice-the piano. I got lost in my world of music.

The rain, lighting and thunder has continued all night. I started with my familiar piece. The one I recorded and posted in 3:1. I switched to Chopin’s Raindrop prelude because it seemed fitting 

but as the G&T was consumed I brought out the binder of All Things I Used To Be Able To Play.

Yes, that’s the famous Rachmaninov prelude in c#minor. If the gods are good, I can play it. Most of the time, though, it’s lost to a time when I was well practiced. There is no sight reading this, and I always laugh at myself just a little when I open it up and expect the sheet music to help me.

There is a story, my mom has told many times of her mother trying to play this piece when my mom was little. My grandmother would get so frustrated she’d yell and bang the keys trying to play this piece. I have much respect for my baby grand, but I can now understand where she was. 

I turned from Rach, a few pages back, to Beethoven. The Pathetique Sonata. I have played so much Beethoven that in college I was bored with him, but now I feel an intimate relationship. Whatever emotional afflictions plagued him plague me also. There is one point in the slow second movement that is so absolutely perfect that when I play it, am completely “in” it, its orgasmic. I know. Orgasm from playing Beethoven? Yeah right. But if I could tell you who I was, then I could tell you who my friend was that I sent a Snapchat to right after it happened telling her that “I might have just orgasmed playing Beethoven”. (Friend, you read this…you know who you are). 

From The Pathetique I moved on to  the Moonlight Sonata-just the first movement. Beethoven said it was quite possibly the most boring thing he’s ever written, but I don’t think people play it loud enough. There’s way too much intensity hidden in there to let is slide off the moon’s still reflection on a lake. That’s not doing it justice. Someday I’ll record it and show you.

What happened next is something that I can’t plan or choose….it’s times when my emotions can’t be expressed in songs I can sight read or remember and they come out in music. I used to improvise in a trance like state. What the hell did I just play? I don’t know, but it was beautiful, and now it’s gone. I’m getting better at hitting record on my phone and catching at least some of it.

I’ll share it with you. You’ll notice my cat told me when I was done. 

​It’s not perfect, or the most beautiful thing in the world by any means. But it was me.

My son came to tell me goodnight. I asked what he had been watching. He said “batteries not included” I think. I don’t know what that is about. He said it was about these robots who come and fix things that get broken.

“So if you break something out of anger these robots just come and fix it for you?” I asked him.

“Yeah, but there was this bad guy who broke one of the robots with an axe and it took a long time to fix him”, he said.

“Oh, so it takes longer to fix broken people than it does to fix broken things?” I asked him, but really, it was more for me.

“Yeah, like a key, the robots could just fix in just one night, but another robot…that took a long time.”

I hugged him close. Kissed his forehead and cheeks all over. He is my sweet boy. I needed that message.

I failed to mention the defining moment of my day. Well, it’s a defining moment in my relationship with my husband really. 

I called the police. 

Earlier in the day I planned to run errands and went up to talk to him-let him know I was leaving and would he be able to watch our son. He told me to Get Out Of His Room. I clarified that I just needed to know if he would be able to take care of “the boy” and was only met with the same answer, in repeating crescendo. I decided I had my answer and took said boy with me. When I came back into the house to grab something I found him shoving all of “my” stuff out of the guest room. Hysteric crying and screaming about all of my shit. Tossing things and shoving in blind rage. It was insanity. More than that, our son was there too. Witnesses to this behavior. It’s not new to the kids, actually, but I’m not okay with it. After I left I chewed on the idea and its implications for a while then decided to call . I told the police he wasn’t suicidal, just extremely upset,   Not an atmosphere I felt we should be around, and nothing I could do about it. They called me back after their “check in”. Since he isn’t suicidal and not violent against us there is nothing for them to do. Some B.S. that is. Okay, I’ll just wait around until he pushes me” like the last guy. Or worse. THEN they’ll care. Fun.

You can imagine how angry he was about this whole “being told on” thing. There was all sorts of accusations of “setting up a case against him” to get custody, playing games, being manipulative. 

The truth is, I was concerned about him and he made it very clear that I needed to get.out. 

Tomorrow is Easter. I’ve cancelled work even though its overtime pay because I can’t trust him entirely with the kids yet. Sometimes he fine, sometimes he’s a sobbing mess, othertimes it’s even uglier. I can’t leave them in that chance.

Overall though, today was for me. I’m giving myself freedom to do what I want and say what I feel and it feels-well, not good, but better. 


7 thoughts on “dirt, music and the police

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