To Query

In many ways my mind is on pause and refuses to seek sunshine over inquiry. I coax and offer assistance - somewhat elusive to the quest I am on. Still, it is query that my cognition always filters through all the netting. Webbing really, it is webbing - not netting. Webs that have become so tangled in and amongst themselves that the clarity has long since gone and what remains is like a nest for anger, ego, control, ...the like.

The test, as it seems - is to continue on without the significance of knowing how I will get to my destination.

My broken dream needs mending once again.

The day began in a "sun's coming up later" kinda way. Sick little boy in the house who I had counted the minutes between coughs for the duration of eight and a half hours that he slept. By 9:22pm the night before, we were at every minute to minute and a half. 9:22pm was the last cough for quite a while. I guess the medicine had set in by that time.  Poor little one.  I tucked the blanket in around his neck and covered those little feet that hung out from below - hoping that he would be able to glean some rest from a very restless evening. The day following would be hard and we both knew that, though no one spoke it outloud.

The idea is to keep it from being spoken as long as we possibly can. So as to not invest any power or authority into the rantings of a lunatic that some of us (him) need to call "Dad". It doesn't always work out that way though. Often, I am as aware as he of the impending ridiculousness that seems to encompass our days, nights, evenings...every waking hour.

The elements that are most disconcerting are that the other side. The side that is passively protected, irritatingly enabled and ignorantly paraded through the motions of a legal forum. I have been heard to rant the "If I was Secretary of the Press, I would..." and "When I am President, I shall..." insights to personal inspirations - all with a  commonality that sends the marauder packing with silence as his only friend. No baggage. No pillaging. And certainly, no speaking to further the propensity of ...just plain stupidity.

Why?

Inquiry begs an answer.

Hope

You step a little lighter when you have hope.

I am fondly rekindling elements that made great sense, had strength of faith and the fortitude to outlast the dregs of fog I feel we are finally wiping from our view; siphoning from our heads. I watch my son, my children. Their eyes are light, their hearts, though sometimes debilitated by an angry web of anger and confusion, are open.  My son walks with such pride and comfort when he is sure of himself, when he has been reassured that he is doing the right thing. Passing through pictures, I am again taken aback by how quickly time passes when you are not looking; how slowly it goes when you are.

For such a long time, which left as if only a breath, we waited.  We have prayed through many a long night and worried lines onto our faces. Even so - the one answer that we longed for never seemed to come.  In stages, it appeared - wildly rearing its head only long enough to be a reminder to stay the course.  And maybe this road does not end abruptly either, but the efforts of faith have been renewed because we have hope once again.

Grandeur. That is where my contemplating mind circles.  That this story is by no means, over. And just when we thought we had figured out its mastery, we have been humbled to understanding once again, that we are not in charge.

In my eyes of hopeful merriment, I am ever grateful for having been the recipient of a person who partners every hope, prayer and dream that I have.  He, as I, are not presuming to be anything more than our humanity allows, but for this lifetime with me, he is perfect.

The Ties That Bind

It originated as a thought; without plan, without procedure or precedence. In form it made sense, but in function it was quite lacking. Effortlessly really -- she approached it effortlessly because that is what love demands.

In no less than a few years, she began to see there was a large, overflowing capacity for him to act outside what normal realms were and do all that he wished without worry for what pain or heartache it might cause another. In many ways, that is what drove her to do the things she did.  Deciding that no longer would she accept pain, heartache, abuse or atrocities of another put upon her or her child.  Somehow that was a problem. People, in general do not long for resolution when they are enamored with fighting.

How ignorant.

He was ignorant. Still is.  Every effort of resolution, of finding a common ground in the middle is put out the door as if a dog who has messed the rug.  And not even with that much foreknowledge. He just fights to fight. I think it is because there is a shred of hatred among a serious void of humanity.  Either way, it is directed at me. I don't care so much as I worry.

I hate that I talk and it is discounted. I disdain the thoughts of this horrible, rotten, no good, very bad cycle. It makes no difference to those that abuse precisely because they lack the emotion to care. All is said and done and I look like the problem when all I have ever done, ever...is to protect and support my child.  Can they say the same?
No.

But not because they don't try to say they are caring - rather, because they're incapable of applying any feeling toward the same cause.  Posers of the grandest order. One shred, one element of deceptiveness five years ago, took precedence over truth because some judge in some county might have been having a bad day.  I remember that day -- I begged and pleaded for resolution; for acknowledgment. They smiled back with that faux pas that shouted: "Shut up you mimicry of a mother because we know you're going to make our job harder".  Then passed the gavel to the left for the sake of easing their work load.

What a joke.

Irritating and debilitating joke.

Has me seriously considering the alternative. What is the alternative?  To shout louder, to speak more directly and not care of the responsiveness, no matter how ignorantly it is displayed. 
Should take pictures.
And record the event.

Except they took my recorder.

Part I

Eleanor Rootes had a way of speaking to me that made me want to vomit. A dark and callous cloud followed her into a room and left the air lifeless, cold, and depressed. It left me depressed.

It is my professional human opinion that she disgraces the field of law and that of humanity, while we're on the subject. Loose, shriveled folds of skin hang around a leathery neck that hacks a hair ball every thirteenth word or so. Her Pomeranian counterpart, the only dreaded beast that would keep company with such a void, had an ironically similar hair-do and touted it in a likeness to its owner.  I believe that it is the arrogance; the talking-down to you that she does even though her Esq. has not filled much beyond three, typically size-12 font spaces at the end of her name. Certainly, it has not assisted her clients.

See Eleanor Rootes was the unfortunate assignment of a law-guardian for my son at a time he was barely off of breast milk. given the status of what qualifies as "normal" these days, that could be quite disconcerting. For the record: my son was one year old.  At our first introduction, she graced my downstairs apartment kitchen with her yellow pad, shaking off the outside and not closing the door behind her. Never the mind, I introduced her to my son, who sat with a full hamburger - all the fixin's, a side of broccoli florets,  and a sippy cup spread across his high-chair tray.

Bound and Re-Bound

The day could be described as a metacognitive hostage situation which would not allow her to loosen the bindings around the mental record repeating track 07: "what if...what if...what if...what if...what if..." . 

Intervention stepped in somewhere 'round midday and suggested she turn it off. However, that was violently interrupted by immaturity from the audience and jiminy-cricket hanging out on her left shoulder.

Besides, the last diagnosis she had received was something residing somewhere between: "No" and "That's Impossible"...so she wasn't listening much anyway.

You'll have that.