Garden, June 24

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I let the flowers riot in my yard because I need them. I need their persistent beauty, their outrageous blooming. There is enough order in their madness to be my oasis.

Outside the garden, there are curious scenes. I will be getting another epidural injection this week. My mother has lost her mind again. To be a part of my family is to ride that wheel of fire that signals it’s time to lose and find yourself once again.

I’ve discovered that someone I know speaks in partial fiction when she talks about her personal life and there isn’t much point in piercing this illusion. After all, her private business is just that. Still, there is a question that nags at the mind, why bother talking about something if the things cited as facts are not true? There must be a motive, and it’s hard not to wonder what it is. There’s a quality to the situation that easily provokes one’s inner Gladys-the-nosy-neighbor from Bewitched.

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5 thoughts on “Garden, June 24”

  1. “…someone I know speaks in partial fiction when she talks about her personal life and there isn’t much point in piercing this illusion.”

    Boy did those words put a good heart into me. I’ve just been forced to come to the same conclusion about my daughter. Not an easy thing to accept — yet we must.

    Nice synchronism, my non-master friend 😊

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s a situation that is hard to imagine until you experience it yourself. I’m sorry to hear that someone so close to you is doing this. I’m lucky that the person I know who has invented part of her life is someone who is not close to me. I talk to her when I see her only, and I happen to see her five days a week. She has never given me her number, friended me on social media, or invited me into her real life. I can’t come out and say where it is I see her, but here’s a clue: we spent 2080 hours together in the past year. Much of what she has said about her personal life is not reality.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Sister, that’s a lot of hours! In my own case, I’m realizing that I myself have been the chief subject of the untruths — very serious ones, which affect basic levels of respect in everyone around me — for the last twenty years at least.

        There seems no fixing it — I’ve worked gently for the last year and a half to do so, and those lies are still going strong. Because of them I will never know my grandchildren well.

        But one thing I have at last been blessed with is clarity around this subject, going forward in life. For that I am very thankful.

        Liked by 1 person

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