trapped in a past that didn't belong to me

on the plane ride to Colorado,

i was joking with a fellow Jew (he let me shake his lulav and etrog in the airport!)

about how I didn’t do so hot in English class,

because i mentioned how i write now.

that wasn’t completely true,

I did above average in all of my classes,

because school provided me a regimented structure sorely needed.

school provided direct expectations,

that i could fill,

and be acknowledged,

appreciated even.

the one time i do remember,

not doing so hot in English class,

was when it came to writing a fiction story.

i had gotten a less than satisfactory score,

because i had mixed up my tenses.

tenses as in past, present, and future.

they were all interchangeable to sixth grade Jules.

a Jules that had grown up in a house where despair took hold,

and it was difficult to discern where now started and yesterday ended.

tomorrow felt like a punch line.

I didn’t go by Jules then,

i had already left elementary school,

where the first person to call me Jules taught.

I was a “gifted kid” in what they dubbed “the magnet program”

we self-isolated a little,

on the social playingfield of middle school,

obsessed with this idea that the other kids hated us because we were smarter than them.

when we were perhaps just a little afraid,

that we didn't fit in.

clinging to what we were told made us special - also making us undesirable.

there were a few who would intermingle,

and they were ostracized for going against the grain.

it’s nostalgic to look back,

on such an earlier model of me,

an iPhone 4 to the iPhone X if you will.

similarly to how i operated in most spaces,

i yearned to be liked by as many as possible,

because i was simultaneously neglected - and suffocated at “home”.

hypervisible while invisible.

to the people who were supposed to nurture us.

the irony.

back to time traveling.

i think it’s incredibly fitting that one of my dad’s favorite movie series,

was back to the future.

i think he yearned to have made different choices.

he didn’t take it out on us though.

not like my mother.

“like a broken record”

she would cycle through her regrets,

the things she wished for,

the things she wanted but never took any initiative to do,

and then she would project her dismay.

she would project her insecurity.

she would project her jealousy, her rage, her feelings of inadequacy.

rather than lead her life,

own her life,

live her life,

she chose to despair,

and tried to drag us down with her.

people who are drowning can sometimes drown those who come to help them.

she always asked us why we wouldn’t cook with her.

but when we would,

it would not be a fun experience.

she was particular,

harsh,

impatient.

she didn’t like cooking,

and made that clear.

she overcooked broccoli.

and undercooked chicken.

that is the past.

i love cooking.

i love the chopping of vegetables (thanks Stacy).

i love the sauteeing.

i love serving a warm bowl of love,

to the people that i love.

i love being able to nourish the bodies of the people i care for.

and i don’t hate washing the dishes afterward either.

cleaning up after myself.

that is the present.

i have a list of things i’d like to learn how to make,

for various reasons,

for various people.

i’ve been making lists.

i’ve been filling out a planner for the future.

i’ve been keeping logs of my present,

so that i can look back and remember - wow i really did those things.

i don’t think i understood what depression was,

until my father passed away,

and i was confronted with the immutable mortality of us all.

the fact that time’s arrow marches forward.

only forward.

i tell people i didn’t start living until i turned 23.

when i realized that this is all we will ever have.

what we have had, and what we have.

that tomorrow is not guaranteed,

but if we are blessed with tomorrow,

it would do us good to plan for it to the best of our abilities.

a little sparrow has shown me that;

has gifted me seeds and helped me plant them,

has shown me water, and pointed out the sun,

and given me the space and time i didn’t know i needed,

because i kept forgetting i have it.

it is better to do things slowly, intentionally, and gently.

the seeds have been taking root,

though it's been taking time,

i feel them.

it's not too late,

it's never too late,

because it's always better late than never.

this is the present, holding hope for the future, grounded in contentment for right now.

take a deep breath, love. you have time.