Wednesday, April 16, 2008

To all my unborn sons and daughters...

I knew of some of you, and some of you I knew not. I want you all to know that I love you all, for the lessons which you taught your mothers and I, and though we were never able to meet your memory stays with me always.

I think about you sometimes, what would you be like? Would you be tall and strong like me, would you have been beautiful as your mother? Would I be able to see my Grandmother in your eyes? How old would you have been now, 12, 6, 4, 1, years, or would I still be anxiously waiting your arrival. How clever you would be, how inquisitive, how beautiful.

You have a sister, she is three years of age, and the treasure of my life. She is smart like me, and beautiful like her mother, she is kind and gentle and will someday be a mother herself. She loves the dirt, and her little dollies. And I know she would love you.

Thank you for your Life, short though it was.
I love you.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

The stars at night.

For years and years I have been uncomfortable in the city, Sure I enjoyed the amenities and activities found within a bigger city, but the pure numbers of people combined with traffic, crime, pollution and the never ending cost of city living began to wear on me, and I began to lose my sanity! No amount of trips out of the city, no amount of camping was able to refresh that feeling, every time I ventured out of the city, I would ask myself "Why the hell do I live in the city?", and every time I returned I would ask myself, "Why the hell do I live in the city?" I never had a good answer for myself.

Four years ago, I began my Exodus, I got a job out of town, a safe place to stay, all was good. The day before I left however, I met the woman who would prove to be the mother of my child, and my exodus was put on hold. The honeymoon period was great but we leapt immediately from honeymoon to pregnant and from pregnant to parenting and my exodus was put on hold.

Our relationship lasted two years, full of beautiful moments and incredible beauty, the birth of our child and the establishment of our home, but unfortunately the stress of city living proved our undoing, ending in a mutually abusive relationship.

Immediately following this period, I began to resume my quest for exodus, albeit in an unorthodox fashion. I obtained an older (but in great shape) schoolbus and began it's conversion. For the last two years I have been living out of my bus, preparing it and myself for my journeys.

My daughter, and the lingering hope for if not a reconciliation, at least a working relationship with her mother kept me in the city, but the realization that it was never to be finally forced my hand.

So I am out, taking the first steps in my new existence as a non-city dweller, and as a nomad. eventually I hope to settle somewhere with someone meaningful, but untill then I intend to travel, collect new stories and experiances, make music and rejoice in the stars at night.