It happened again. Upon entering an early morning foggy bathroom.
Delanie, holding the new purple hair dryer said,
“Mom, I think your RETRACTOR thing is broken.”
Cord would not wind up. This feature was one of the selling points that attracted me to the thing. But this in not where my mind was now. Turned….wound to another place.
“Yes. I know,” I admitted.
My retractor thing is broken in the breaking of trust. In the breaking of hearts. And of fr……… The thing hangs there. The ugly cord unretracktable, and tangled. I try to ease the strand, the power source back up inside. It resists. Does not feed easily, like a tired child in a high chair.
I imagine the mechanism inside. Try to understand the innner workings. Visualize a tiny reel. A Temple Grandin blueprint vision. An image of purple and yellow swim lane lines flashes into my brain. Wet, insane, awkward winding at the end of practice. I suspect the the dryer cord to somehow twist and bind. This could be the cause. Or else, perhaps I’ve over extended. Sprung the spring. Not unlike a plastic crafted CVS wind up child’s toy that marches and then delightfully does the splits, like my cute daughter.
Only…there is no joy here. This is not a thing to toy or triffle with. I realize there are no more written words and no more thinking that will change this pig tail. It stinks. This dongal that does not seat. This disconnection.
“Yes. My retractor is broken,” I say again under my breath.
I’d like to think some action would fix it. No. None on my part anyway.
I hear a soft voice inside my head say, “Let it go.”
Again, No. I need you.
I’m holding on. And everytime I have the thing in hand, each time I hold this simple tool, I am remembering again and again….
not the pain
the holding on……the hope of better, happier, connectedness
Again Love is letting go and holding on at the same time.
I think I really miss you.