Can’t Find My Way Home

“One slip, and down the hole we fall
It seems to take no time at all
A momentary lapse of reason
That binds a life for life
A small regret, you won’t forget,
There’ll be no sleep in here tonight
Was it love, or was it the idea of being in love?
Or was it the hand of fate, that seemed to fit just like a glove?”
One Slip- Pink Floyd

Well woman it has been more than a long while since you and I had a proper conversation about anything. In the so called real world in which people measure time they would say that this is proof that the moment has passed and the window has closed. It is a fancy way of saying that they’d tell me to move on and forget about the dream.

Some would use tough love and tell me that you have moved on and that my hanging around is nothing more than a fool’s errand. They’d say that if I enjoy exercises in futility I can use a thimble to fill a swimming pool with water. Others might take a different approach and use a kinder, more gentle approach to encourage me to come back from the abyss they see me standing above.

But they don’t understand what you and I had, what we were together or why it has kept my attention. And they certainly don’t understand me. When they say that I have been cast adrift and seem lost at sea I nod my head in agreement. It is true. I have been sailing through uncharted waters for longer than I care to admit.

There have been more than a few storms that have threatened to sink the damn ship. And moments where I wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to let go of the wheel and let the damn rocks have their way. The thought of slipping beneath the waves into the deep has a certain sort of attraction to me, but not in a literal sense. And you of all people know that the fire that burns within won’t allow me to give up in that fashion.

So during those dark moments I channeled my anger, my frustration and rage and screamed. Like a wounded bull I shouted at the sky and begged the imaginary beings who live there to come down and do battle with me. I shook my fist and cursed them for their cowardly nature. In the midst of it all I sometimes wondered if the aforementioned fire had escaped its cage in my belly and made its way up into my chest.

It seemed clear to me that it must have burnt that heart of mine into something black and twisted or worse yet, consumed it whole. But the familiar ache made it clear that it hadn’t and that it was only my imagination. And then I thought that if you could only be next to me I could let go and shed some tears.

How perverse and strange it was- to think that the only way I could let go would be for you to be there. But you weren’t and so I didn’t. And as time passed I grew more accustomed to the hole and found ways to ignore the emptiness.

I turned inwards and explored the darkness inside. And then I found some glimmers of hope and reminders of the guy I was and who I am to become. The boy who was helped to remind me that the man can dream and that there is a path to making those dreams so much more than fantasy. The funny thing about it is that some of that came about by returning to the places I had left behind.

More than a few moments are spent inside the gym swinging iron back and forth, side to side and up and down. Covered in sweat I find moments of peace and tranquility. In between the clinking and clanking I close my eyes and listen. My heart still says that you are my air and my home is wherever you are.

Sometimes in the silence between sets I hear A Kiss To Build a Dream On and I can’t help but picture dancing with you in our home. And there in the silence I remember that one kiss that we used to speak of and I smile.

So maybe it is just for the time being that I can’t find my way home but something tells me that it won’t be like this forever.

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