I heard an interview yesterday with a singer songwriter who told of going to screaming festivals when she was a kid. It was a great release to be able to lean back, let go, and let out whatever howl was inside. I thought about my childhood, my marriage, how different my life might be if I’d given myself that kind of permission. Instead, like the interviewer described the singer’s new, very quiet album, I did the “opposite of screaming.”

The opposite of screaming is telling yourself good night before you turn off the light because though you’re not alone, no one else will say it to you

The opposite of screaming is crying into your eggs as you stir them because though you’re not alone, no one else will share breakfast with you

The opposite of screaming is staying in the rocking chair for much longer than needed because though you’re not alone, no one else will want to talk with you after the baby’s gone to sleep

The opposite of screaming is knowing that your dog is your best friend because she’s the only one who’s excited to see you when you come back home

The opposite of screaming is getting licensed to a massage, so you can feel the skin of another human being

The opposite of screaming is having an affair with someone much younger than you just because they asked you to 

The opposite of screaming is leaving your marriage, writing your truth, and forgiving yourself every single day.

She used to lie on the white carpet in her grandmother’s living room, watching the pendulum on the grandfather clock. How curious, the extremes it took to keep the momentum going. As if time itself depended on it.

And one by one, they plucked the wings off of the good idea fairy.
Flying was no longer an option
So she learned how to climb.
Foot by foot and hand by hand
She elevated herself above her station.
To a place where she could see over the horizon
And to what lay beyond
Though she was missing a piece of herself
That she’d formerly thought was integral
Soon she learned that all was not lost
For even when a power claiming to be greater than yourself
Takes away the one thing you treasure most
You can dig deep, get brave, and continue to rise
Wings are not the only way to fly

i did not have the 

strength to go with grace, instead 

i fell to my knees 

the river witness

to my utter destruction

our innocence, lost

i left the home where 

i’d swaddled our two daughters

and relearned to walk

Headlights ‘luminate the lane divide
As the cornfields turn to homes
Headed eastbound now he thinks of her
All the times he held her close

In those days when they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,

For awhile the distance broken
Holding on without a word

So much fun playing cops and robbers
No way it’d ever work
He’s all rules and regulations
She all poetry and verse

In those days they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,
For awhile the distance broken
Holding on without a word

Some days he aches for her Botero curves, DaVinci smile
There’s too much now for him to lose
He can’t succumb to his desire

So, late nights flirting ‘cross cell towers
Is all that there can be
There’s no meeting halfway anymore
Cause one plus one, plus one, is three

He’ll text hello when it’s him and her and his phone,
And she’ll say, “Goodnight, Sweet Man” awhile after
And she’ll go to sleep alone

And tomorrow when the sun arises
They’ll each stand beneath the steam
Separate showers, once were shared
Long ago in a dream

In those days they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,
For awhile the distance broken…
Holding on without a word