Who would I be?

I am not perfect, I love without abandon
I am not perfect, I love without thought
I am not perfect, I cry without knowing why
I am not perfect, never will be and I don’t know why I try.

I can lasso the sun, and pull it in close
I can lasso my dreams, and hope they come true
I can lasso my thoughts, will they make sense
the only thing I cannot lasso is my heart.

I stare into the distance, I hope to make it better
I hope that you will love me as much as I love you
I know though that my thoughts and my feelings
They are but a dream.

We came to be without regard, we came to be because
You said to me that I was welcome to leave
But really what type of person does that make me?
To leave when the going gets tough?

I stayed because it was the right thing to do
I stayed because I could not go
You never said  thank you, I understood
you only kept on taking.

I did what I did because I cared
I did what I did because that is what is right
Regrets and fears, love lost in tears
that is what my life is made of.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

July 26/14

Male Best Friends

I am not a boy.  I do not understand the male (and I paint all  males with the same brush for the purpose of this blog) fascination with cars/trucks, things mechanical, hunting, naked boobs, penises and of course farting. I do however have an 8 year old son so I am learning to appreciate a fine fart.

As I write this T and his best friend are in my bathroom peeing into the toilet side by side.  They have been friends since they were two and one and a half respectively. They have bathed together, slept in the same bed for last six years on sleepovers.  And they really really miss one another when they are apart.

My ex and me have joint custody.  We share one week on and one week off.  My son’s best friend lives next door to me.  Literally next door to me.  And when my son is not here, he pines for  him and vise versa.  Sunday mornings find me receiving texts asking at what time is T coming home. Does he miss K? K is waiting for T…..what time is he coming again.  Within seconds of my son arriving home, he is out the door and into K’s house or K is bursting through my door.

During the school week due to the shifts that I work, the boys do not get to see one another a lot.  Tuesday if K’s mom picks up T from the sitter’s. Wednesday for like half an hour before K goes to hockey. And than comes Friday and Saturday. From four p.m. on Friday until approximately 7 p.m. on Saturday these boys are inseperable. Except for bedtime and if they can wheedle a sleepover out of us, they don’t even have to be apart for the night.

Today K’s mom had a migraine so lucky K got to skip school and stay home. Cool, until I mentioned it to T who decided that it was totally unfair that when I was sick I made him got to school. K has been waiting patiently all day for T. And at 3:25 pm the texts begin.

“K is looking at the clock.”

“15 minutes until the bell rings. Why do all these dickheads have to park like right up my butt?’

“K says ok. I dunno cause they are a**holes?”

“10 minutes to bell rings. They are all dumb bums.”

“Lol that rhymes.”

“5 minutes until bell rings.”

“K says to me: I have been longing for T all day and I bet that T is longing for me.”

Both moms are speechless. Longing at 8 for each other?

As I wait the 15 minutes for T to be released from school I continue to receive texts from K’s mom ( who is my best friend how is that for a great story?) about how K is waiting and patiently watching the clock for us to get home.

Finally the school bell rings and voila my child comes bolting for the car. And after my sitting out there for 15 minutes T wants to walk home. My response was oh hell no, I sat here for 15 minutes get your butt in here and K is waiting for you. Well into the car he scrambled and onward mom let’s go.

We pulled into the complex and as I drove into my parking spot I look over at the neighbor’s and there is K jumping up and down in his window. Waving away so pumped because T is home. T bolts from the car and dances around the parking lot calling “K” like Brando screams Stella in ‘A Streetcar named Desire’.

They are the best of friends. They do the weirdest stuff together. They tell one another secrets and their dreams and all the things that they would never tell their moms. They look like brothers. Come June, they are going to be living in different cities, approximately 45 minutes apart depending on driving conditions.

I never had a best friend when I was 8. They say that any friendship that last longer that 7 years is destined to last forever. I look at these two brothers who were born of different mothers and I know that I will be dancing at K’s wedding just as M will be dancing at T’s. They will always be there for one another. They will always have one another’s backs. I am sure that if T has issues K will come running to his rescue and I know damn well that T will run to his. I am a little envious that I do not have a childhood best friend, a friend who knows all my secrets, all the inside jokes. But I am so happy that K and T have found one another and will be best friends for life. What I am not looking forward to is the next 10 years of fart and poop jokes. And dear lord, can  I just skip the teen years?

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