Saturday, May 26, 2012

Finding the Cure



May 26th, 2012

No two people grieve the same, I think. Its been a few months now since our loss. Every time I think I am getting better, I fail. I just need a cure.

I still wonder though, if this is how it is with everyone who mourns. The ups and downs of feeling good about yourself. You can go a week or so, and feel your pulling through the darkness, and then fall right on your ass, twisting your body and lay flat on your damn face. It’s grueling. You feel like your living in an enduring black hole. The good weeks feel like a tease. An appetizer before the sorrow is served.

I’m going through the motions of life day in and day out, but the only difference is my daily routine is not of my choosing, it is my necessity. No matter how I feel, my boys need me. Some mornings I wake up to a vibration in my head and it rattles the oxygen right out my brain, cutting off my blood supply, and a light headedness kicks in. Even though I feel lightheaded, my head bobbles around like the weight of the world is shifting from right to left, and then back again inside of it. But I ignore it. I use the surrounding furniture to hold myself up as the dizziness tries to take me down. It must be the heartache I feel everyday when I look at my boys.

To cope with the heartache, I imagine she is on a long vacation. I say to myself, “ Well, if she was in prison, she couldn’t see the boys.” But even prison would be wishful thinking. The ironic thing is, I am the one in prison. I'm trapped in this labyrinth, unable to chose the right path to follow, to make my escape from the deep corridors inside myself. I’m in solitary confinement, a box, attempting to break out.

The need to heal is imperative and I know I have to try but It feels as if I am an addict of some kind, an addict of self pity. If you talk to any junkie or alcoholic in their great moment of clarity they will tell you to your face, “I need to stop this shit, I need to get better. I am tired of living this way.” But those moments give way to their demons and the habits they formed are now ingrained in the fibers of their bodies. Their habits eventually returning to them, with a vengeance. It causes them to relapse, into total destruction of their heart, body, and mind. My self pity hasn't reached those levels.

I’m not even close to being a junkie. I have never even tried a drug. Not even marijuana. Not to say I am the Sandra Dee of society. The reality is the only time I came close to even smoking it was with a hot blonde who was the classic, 5 foot 7 inch, blue eyes, and one-hundred and fifteen pounds. I was sixteen at the time. Her mom called to her from the front porch to their house, as we walked in her cow pasture, to come home, the moment we were going to light it up.

My drug is ingrained into a larger organism besides my body. The roots extending beyond my fibers, beyond me and intertwine into my children. Grief is my drug, like the largest organism on the planet the Aspen trees. But it goes beyond land into the oceans stretching across like the great barrier reef. My grief is real, it's alive. If there was a way I could attach myself to another large organism like the Blue Whale as it passes by to get the grief process flowing and out of my body, I would. Those are moments I long for.

Yet, it seems I always allow those moments to pass me by.

Moments are presented to us all the time. Most of us will seize them. Other times, you are forced into situations that don't define you. Your not special for it, you just have to do it in order to survive. You can try to hide from the issue at hand, but the moment you peer out from under your covers you’ll see it staring right back at you. It wasn’t looking for you. It was there the whole time.

Reflecting on what has transpired over the months. I can directly see how it has effected me and my abilities to cope. The strength in me, has been challenged beyond anything that I can fathom. Life isn’t easy, mine never has been, but I am trying to work through this now. Like any good person would. But reflection causes overwhelming pain. A pain that I wish would disappear with a reappearance of the soul that went to heaven but knowing full well that is something that will never be. The pain of that reality unearths many more emotions.

I feel shock.

The shock still hasn’t gone away. Everything I have ever known and all the things we built together are still here. Not just the children but her things. Her signatures. Mail in her name. Dirty laundry with her essence still on it. Body soap. The list goes on and on. How can this be? This can't be real. It isn’t the denial of it, its real and it is occurring. But how the fuck did this happen.

I am bewildered.

Is this really happening to me? Me? How the hell can this be happening to me. I am a good person. I haven’t received any good fortune that would warrant pay back. No deals with the devil were ever made. I have searched my life to find the something anything that I have done, but nothing seems that bad in my life to allow this to happen.

I feel regret.

Not saying the things I wanted to say. I should have expressed myself more. I long to say I love you. I thought deep down that I did the proper things as a husband, but then, there are things I did that make us all human. The bad over shadows all the good. I can not see one damn thing, one once, of good that I provided, yet I know it’s there. The bad blocks it out, pounding on you relentlessly, blaming you for the loss.

I have anger.

What the hell is going on. I mean really. WHAT THE FUCK, IS GOING ON WITH ALL THIS. My kids don’t deserve it. They are the victims to what is going on. I have to put on a smile everyday and pretend that everything is all right, when it clearly it isn’t. Does that make me father of the year? Hell no. It makes me a parent shielding my kids from the reality of life and it pisses me off that I have to do that now.

I feel sorry for myself.

It isn’t fair that I have to do this alone. Alone in the sense that my partner is not here to help me raise these kids. I can receive all the help in the world from who ever the hell wants to help me do it, but it doesn’t make up for the fact, that in the end, I am alone in this. My kids are alone in this. They are one accident away from being an orphan.

And Selfish.

What about my hopes and dream? My plans, they are gone. Cast aside like trash. The things I really wanted to do, will never come to fruition.

This whole situation is taking a heavy toll on me. It is an organism that reaches out and effects so many other people. I am on the front line, so it is impossible to see who it is effecting behind me, when I am trying to save my own ass and focus on only what’s in front of me.

But I am not naive, and understand others are hurting for me, for themselves. People need to understand that I am in the ring alone in this fight. I know what I have to do. I am grieving in my own way. I just need to find the cure for what ails me.


 



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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.


Friday, May 25, 2012

There's Always Time: Be Positive, Part III



I decided to tell this story because it was a pivotal loss we had between losing the twins and the birth of our oldest son, Nico. It was a trying time for her and I. That stretch of time tested everything our relationship was about and everything it was going to be. We were desperate to heal ourselves and try to replace the loss we suffered on that terrible October morning in 2006 when we suffered a double loss of twins the morning we were scheduled to give birth. Mimie was very strong but strength can only last so long. 

Theres Always Time: Be Positive

Part III

                                                                                        
I can’t tell you why I wanted kids so bad, I’m not a psychologist. Maybe it’s because my parents were divorced when I was two. I remember as a child finding out how babies were made...
Boys will be boys and the subject of sex came up. I was about ten years old when my cousin asked me if I knew where babies came from. I really wasn’t sure, so I lied.

Our cousins were visiting from Baltimore. Extended family of my dads mother Margaret. Even as a kid I remember their parents being pompous assholes.

The modest house we had wasn‘t good enough. Our family car not fancy enough. None of it seemed to matter to them. They would later pull their kids out of our bedroom one night when they slept over because my brothers and I were talking to them distracting them from their sleep.
Prior to that happening I was told news that would keep me up all night for much of my pre-pubescent years.

“Well yeah, babies come from our mommies.” In an innocent ten year old tone.

“Yeah, but do you know how they come from our mommies?” My instigating cousin said with a hiss to his voice. “No, not really.” I said.

He would go on in heavy detail about the birds and the bees. Only in his version his birds and bees came with vaginas and penises. I would worry all night for years about having sex in order to make babies. I remember thinking, “maybe my wife will just come home pregnant one day.”

I tried to convince Mimie that the problem isn’t our inability to have kids. My father made four babies with my mom in six years. They married right out of high school.. My mom was eighteen years old. And my dad, twenty one. Their marriage would last all of seven years until breaking up the family I never knew I had being so young.

This must be the need the feeds my yearning for a family. I never made any secrets about my desire to have kids and Mimie never questioned it.

Mimie’s parents met overseas where one of her sister’s was born. When her father returned home with his new family they went on to have three more kids, all girls, four total. Her parents would remain together for over thirty years. Again procreation isn’t the issue. At least not biologically.

I arrive home from Walgreens after my second trip.

I park in the drive way, but my walk is not as fluid as it was when I got home earlier in the evening. The energy has been sucked right out of me, us. Where as earlier there was a spring to my step, this time I walked with a heavy gate. I didn’t feel light on my feet at all. I had rubber sandals on yet they could have been led weights tied to my ankles. I sulked as I walked. I had the digital tester gripped tightly in my hand.

I open the front door to the house that seemed like horrors. We were putting way to much pressure on ourselves. I didn’t bother to shout Mimie’s name, I knew where I would find her this time. I walk through the living room accidentally kicking the plastic Walgreens bag that I previously discarded in my rush to get Mimie the tester. It was resting at the foot of the hallway. The plastic handles got hung up on my sandals and the bag followed me down the hallway, where I had once left it for dead in my earlier climatic trot.

When I entered the room Mimie was laying in bed. She was under the covers with a book in her hand. The other pregnancy box laid on the bed beside her looking like a casualty of a hit and run. The box was torn and its wrappers were strewn about the bed. Like its insides had been ripped out.

“Okay got it” I said looking at Mimie as she hid behind her book.

She tilted the book down and made eye contact with me, “the digital one?” she asked.

“Yes, it looks so simple” trying to make light out of our situation.

Mimie drags herself out of the bed. I extend my right hand out and give her the entire box as she walks into the bathroom. I felt so tired. This time I would lay in bed and wait until the final results were ready. From where I am laying I could listen to the play by play of Mimie starting the process of the test. We’ve been here more then a few times.

1. I can tell the cardboard top is heavily glued on since the digital pregnancy test is pretty expensive. I can hear Mimie’s struggle with the top of the box as she attempts to dig her nails into the little overlapping edge. She was unsuccessful several times before one of her nails digs in deep enough to push the finger inside the container.

2. My acute hearing is aware that she was able to pull back the flap and rip the top open like a can.

3. My ears pick the up the sound of her digging inside the box and finally obtaining her prize as if the box was a Cracker Jacks snack. I can hear the tearing of the plastic bag containing the tester. The metal clanking sound is the sound of her pressing the trash can foot pedal and discarding the refuse inside the base of it. “Clank.” The lid just closed.

4. I recognize the banging sound of the toilet seat lid smacking against the porcelain tank.

With the flush of the toilet I know she’s done. I get up out of bed and walk to the bathroom. She’s standing in the door way with her back to me reading the box. I peek over her right shoulder and whisper “Boo” in her ear.

She doesn’t flinch, “I heard you coming a mile away.” she says, a smile breaks out on her face.

“What’s the thing doing” as I look at the tester resting on the counter.

Mimie picks it up and exams it. She brings it to her eye level which is high enough for me to see at her height of 5 foot 4 inches, I can easily see the display.

The pregnancy tester is the same size as a normal tester only this has a grey screen installed half way in the middle. While we wait for the results of her urine analysis a little icon is being displayed on the screen. It looks like a sundial. The black circular icon stands out in the grey background. Little digital hash marks appear to be spinning in a circular motion at a rapid pace.

“So what did the instructions say, when will we know.” I ask Mimie as we both stare at the spinning icon.

“I’m not sure. The main box says one minute. It will just tell us if we are pregnant I suppose.” Mimie’s eyes are fixated on the screen.

As we both stare down at it, without out warning our hesitation the word “PREGNANT” appears.

It was like magic out of thin air. Mimie and I froze for a second. As if we were in shock. After a split second of the word soaking in we realized it was true. She was pregnant. We both jumped for joy.

Mimie turned her body around to face me. We embraced each other and I gave her a kiss. We were so happy. There was success and for a brief moment the thought of our girls was placed on the side of our misery. Nothing was going to ruin this moment, this second in time. Not now, no way, no how. No matter what would happen form this point, we were truly in a state of bliss.

We were laying in bed basking in the glow of the realization that she was pregnant. We thought we’d do our best not tell anyone because of the ordeal we went though just recently.

Playing it safe was the best option. That night, I know Mimie was truly happy. A feeling of relief that things may be okay, that she was fertile enough to have a baby. She had hoped her nightmare was ending.

I never doubted the fact she could have kids. I felt we were just experiencing bad luck. Although I was hurting down deep for her, I always tried my best to make the best of things.

“Mimie” I said, “Enjoy the moment. It doesn’t matter what happens. Just bask in it tonight.”

That night was the last night of peace we would have in quite a while.


Click here for Part IV » Mimie Speaks





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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.
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Thursday, May 24, 2012

"A Pirates Life for Me", Part II




May 24th, 2012

It has been tradition to start Disney off with our march to The Pirates of the Caribbean. Our tradition because we went there first last time we were here a few weeks ago and we are doing it today, first again, so it’s going to be our tradition.

Mimie and I love The Pirates of the Caribbean ride. The atmosphere seems so real. It truly is a magical ride that takes you back to a place in time and discover a world other then the current one your in, even if it is fantasy.

As you pass the squealing kids and heavy chatter from the hordes of people standing around Adventure Land. The music you recognize from the movies, begins to reach your ears.

Violins and chellos being played at a rapid succession. The woodwind family joins in as the flutes, piccolos and oboe’s intermingle with the string quartet. A ting of a triangle is played like the baseline.

Its fast and choppy but it gets you excited that the adventure is about to begin.

They boys and I arrive to the large mast, but no ship, just remnants of what is left from a ship wreck. The mast jettisons upward into the sky where it marks the ride with an X as in “X marks the spot”, if your using a map, that indicates you found the ride.

Attached to the mast is a tattered sail that you’d find on a sailing ship. Written in letters in the color of a sunset, over the canvas material, is the name “Pirates of the Caribbean.” Placed on top of the mast is a crows nest where a skeleton figure is perched inside of it who's on the look out, by utilizing his spyglass, as he looks for guest daring to climb aboard.

The excitement rolls over us. The music is louder but slows down and dragged out.

The string quartet drags their bows across the strands closest to the bridge. You can envision the violinists working their fingers across the fingerboard as they hold the neck. The horn section joins in as the French horns interact with the strings creating more music for your ears and the sound of cymbals grabbing your attention.

Me and the boys enter the yellowish colored building that was built with a Spanish architectural design. Above our heads are heavy lanterns attached to wood beams that were holding up the Spanish tile barreled roof. We passed through the smaller archways entering into a larger area, where dark grey, different shaped, tile flooring leads our way toward the grand entrance.

On either side of us were larger grandiose archways. The columns have a four sided shaped molding at its base that stretches up to about waist level where it rounds into the rest of the columns and marry's the wall. The wall then extends up giving way to the arch, were it reaches the peak of the rounded edge and becomes a solid wall that proceeds upward until it becomes one with the ceiling. The edges being boxed out with decorated crown molding. Larger timberland's spread across the ceiling with heavier lanterns attached to them. As we walked the corridor the music continues as it bounces off the walls and causes an echo.

A snare drum sounds, while the horns tune lowers an octave, more drums join in, as the string quartet gets louder. The trombone and trumpets play as the cymbals crash the glockenspiel thumps.

We walk towards the large wood doors that have decorative steal black hinges that reach across the planks. Thick bolts fasten the hinges in place. Above the entrance is a painted banner that reads, "Yo ho, Yo ho, A Pirate's Life For Me." I glance at it as we walk through the doors.


The violins play more vigorously. The horns interject and blare over the stings but it sounds in perfect harmony. The drums, cymbals and horns make a steady "dum, dum, dum dum" that it allows you to picture Jack is marching through the jungle or fighting in an epic sword fight.

The music is setting the mood preparing you for the adventure as if Jack Sparrow himself will come out to greet you.

Once we get inside the lighting is low. Nico turns to me and wants me to carry him because he is a little frightened. I already have Christopher in my arms, so I lift Nico up in my other arm and we walk down the winding hallways to our waiting boat.


The concrete walls have openings in them as you make your way down the old path, like picture windows. There are  iron bars mounted inside like you'd find in a jail . Peering through the bars you will see skeleton remains that appear they have been trapped inside for an eternity.

The music plays and the echo is louder as the music travels in a straight line and bounces of the walls.

The music tempo picks up. All the instruments playing together. Its fast and deliberate with fast beginnings and sharp ends. The cymbals crash harder and louder then the other instruments. The string section gets more intense as it plays a solo to the other brass and percussion instruments. Then the horn sections joins in.

The boys and I reach our boat. It feels like your on a dock waiting for departure. The air is cool. You can feel and smell the moisture in the air. It smells like fresh rain. We get our spot in the front, the three of us together but we are missing the important fourth one, Mimie.

The boat travels along the make shift cave, but you can't tell between whats real and what's not. From above, rock icicles or stalactites are pointing down at us.

The boys are mesmerized as we approach an image being shown on a smokey fog directly before our boat, its Black Beard, and he's warning us before we enter.

We pass through the smoke and we hear a voice saying over and over,"Dead men tell no tales.” 

It can be scary for children the age of my kids. Christopher turns to me and buries his face into my shoulder.

We pass skeletons on a makeshift beach to our left. A clothed skeleton lays there with a sword through his chest. A crab stands close by looking at is as we pass by. When we move pass the beach coming up to our right is a skeleton at the helm of his shipwrecked boat. It's beached but he's still holding onto the wheel as the rain comes down hard. The wind is howling and the thunder is shaking the boat. Flashes of lighting briefly give light to the surrounding area but the boat quickly moves into darkness. The boat slides down an unsuspecting waterfall.

We end up in the middle of a battle. Barbossa is taking on a Fort.

The boys squeal with excitement.

The Black Pearl is to our left and the cannons are blasting at a heavily fortified Fort to our right. The wind blows by your ears as the cannon shots are fired. Misdirected shots land in the water beside you causing the water to splash high in the air only to land in your boat. Barbossa stands in the middle of the ship demanding those in the fortress to give up!

The boys love it!

I zone out and think about Mimie and the enjoyment we had on this ride. I look up at the dark ceiling that resembles a night sky and hope she is watching us have a good time.

Our boat moves past the battle and enters a Village where Pirates are taking over and harassing the good people that live there. They may be automated but it looks so real.

We move past the Well where Pirates are dunking a peasant in the water demanding he tell them where Jack Sparrow is, their form of water boarding back then, as we pass by  they dunk him again but spot Jack hiding by a barrel peering over the top gazing towards the men.

The boat travels towards an archway. The Pirates are at an auction where they are auctioning off the women. They're a rowdy bunch as they scream and shout while firing their guns.

We pass through the waterway and enter an area where the Pirates are chasing the women for food. It's a wild scene. The boys are staring in awe.

Every time we had passed this part I would tell Mime how women’s groups were mad that men were chasing the women, so Disney added the fruit so there wouldn’t be any womanizing. I laugh to myself.

I look over to my empty seat to my right and imagine she is there with us. Nico is sitting on my right knee and Christopher is on my left knee. They are loving every moment of this ride. I guess that’s why I make this the first ride we go on.

We pass the drunk guy who's resting against a wall harassing the scared kitty’s as the cats stand tall, their hair raised on their backs. We travel under another cobble stones archway where the effect of fire is glaring through broken windows as the burly man sing.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. We pillage plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho...

The automated characters appear so life like I can help but laugh as my children smile bright. The acton is lively and exciting.


...Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. Maraud and embezzle and even highjack.Drink up me 'earties, yo ho...


The fire looks so real as the red glare waves like the motion of a flame giving the appearance the building are on fire.

...Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. We kindle and char and in flame and ignite. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. We burn up the city, we're really a fright. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho"

The animatronics are singing, it's so life like. It's hard to take it all in. The boys take notice of a drunk lying in the sloth of the pigs spooning with them as they sleep.

...Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. We kindle and char and in flame and ignite.Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. We burn up the city, we're really a fright. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho...

The boat moves into a tunnel where we come across the iconic seen where the jailed Pirates are trying to coax a dog to them because he is holding the key in his mouth. The fire is making it's way in the cells and it's their only hope.

We move towards the end of the ride as we pass Captain Jack Sparrow one last time. He's sitting on his throne in a room full of treasures as he sings the Pirate song. The boat docks and as we disembark the boys want to go again.

It'll be fun for the three of us, but will always be missing the fourth. Mimie and I had a lot of fun in Disney. Especially on the Pirates of the Caribbean, one of our favorite ones of all.

...Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."






"Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirates Life for Me" Written by: George Bruns with lyrics by Xavier Atencio


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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.

"A Pirates Life for Me" Part I

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May 24th, 2012

My Disney passes were about to expire on May 23rd, so I loaded up the boys and took them for a little bit of Disney Magic.

My mornings are the same like all my day breaks. I wake up and I have two lives laying on me from the night before. It’s going to be difficult to break the boys of the habit of sleeping with me on the couch, but yet I still allow it.

I haven’t had the courage to sleep in the bed I shared with Mimie. But that’s a whole new story in itself.

Lets just stick to the “Magical World of Disney”, for now.

The couch is uncomfortable. I can’t really move into too many positions on its narrow width. The seat cushions are fine, but when I remove the back cushions to add a little more space to accommodate more bodies, like my boys, I’ll lay sideways with my back against the back of the couch.

With those pillows off it exposes the thin layer of cloth that covers the wood's 2x2 plank that lays parallel with the length of the couch. It supports the structure. With my bare spine pushing up against the lumber it makes things worse. It feels like sleeping on a pull out sofa beds metal framed but aslant. At dawns break, I feel like I need to add a piece of timber to support my own structure.

I remove myself from the couch and the tangled bodies in the blanket. I’m bent at the waist to slow the shock to my back as I try to stand up right. I turn to my boys and stare at them and they in turn stare back at me.

“Bye, bye?” I ask.

Nico pops his head up like a Jack n’ the Box, “Bye, bye?!” he says with enthusiasm

Christopher doesn’t move from his spot on the pillow, but his eyes are open and with a slow drawl he copies Nico, “Bye, bye?” He asks.

“Let’s go to Disney boys” I clap my hands and turn to walk down the hallway.

The boys follow suit.

Its not easy getting these guys ready but I am turning into a pro. My body is tired and I yearn to grieve the loss of my wife, but still haven’t been afforded the opportunity to do so. The thought of driving to Disney is not appealing to me right now and I’m forcing myself to get up and go.

So, with a heavy heart, that I am trying to turn light hearted, I get the fellas dressed and were off to the place “where dreams come true.”

We begin the car drive north and the boys are lost in their own world. They snack on food, watch a DVD‘s, take a nap. I am forced to find a station that plays decent music on the radio. I don’t understand how but when you travel outside your living area, all the music stations disappear. I can’t even find a frequency that can sustain my Sirius Satellite radio.

After a nearly three hour car drive we made it.

The kid in me wakes up and I’m flushed with excitement. More so for my boys. Nico announces “icky, icky” a loud as we pass through the large steal beam that has large pronounce letters that read, “Walt Disney World” as you drive through.

We work are way through the winding road and park the van. Before I get the boys out of their car seats I prep everything because now I learn from experience that once the boys are out of the van you have passed the point of no return.

I pull the large double stroller from the back hatch area of our Nissan Quest minivan. It folds like an accordion, so I squeeze it together ,giving the metal and fabric some slack, and push down the red lever that will open it up like an umbrella.

The process begins.

I load the stroller up with all the essentials. Diaper bag, towel, paper towels, extra diapers, clothes and snacks. I walk over to Nico with the sun block and I begin to douse him with it. Learning protection from the sun is essential.

I start with the right leg. I squirt the heavy white lotion in my hands and a push my hands together and rub vigorously lathering up my hands. I start at his foot and work my way up to this thigh. It’s the same with the left leg.

Both boys sit there as I do this, like they are well trained and heavily pampered athletes.

Once the legs are done, I work my way to the arms. Again, I squirt some lotion in my hand, but this time as I begin to place my palms together and rub Nico copies me and reenacts me verbatim. I grab his hands and pull the apart. I start with his fingers and work my way up his forearms to his shoulders.

The face is tricky. Both boys don’t like their face touched so I place dabs of sun block on my finger tips and I fight to gain access to their face as the juke and dive out of my way. I practically have to get them in a headlock to apply the much needed sun screen.

We’re off.


Click here for Part II » A Pirates Life For Me





Creative Commons License

The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

There's Always Time: Getting Results Part II







May 23rd, 2012


I decided to tell this story because it was a pivotal loss we had between losing the twins and the birth of our oldest son, Nico. It was a trying time for her and I. That stretch of time tested everything our relationship was about and everything it was going to be. We were desperate to heal ourselves and try to replace the loss we suffered on that terrible October morning in 2006 when we suffered a double loss of twins the morning we were scheduled to give birth. Mimie was very strong but strength can only last so long. 

There’s Always Time: Getting Results
Part II

I had just found out Mimie thought she was pregnant. I ran out to the store to get her a pregnancy test to confirm what she already knew…

The pregnancy tester is white and about six inches long. In order to use it, the participant removes the capped end reveling the tip that you pee on. There is a small window that has a square embedded into it. Once you pee on it the hormones in the urine will revel one line or two lines. Get two lines and you just hit the baby jackpot. One line, its try, try again.

I give her some privacy after I hand her the stick and walk over to my side of the bed. I finally start to remove my police uniform after my long day.

Mimie walks out of the bathroom leaving the tester on the ledge of the bathroom counter fresh from just being used.

“How long does it take”, I asked as my feet got tangled in my pant leg in my anxiety of anticipating the results.

“A minute or two I would think”, Mimie replied staring at me as I stumble forward bracing myself on the bed. My right arm catching myself, breaking my fall. I use my left hand to try and get my last leg out.

After getting my pants off I brace my self with my left arm joining the right for extra support as they are placed firmly on the bed.

My head hangs in between my shoulders like a pendulum and I'm breathing hard after trying to remove my pants. I raise my head and look up at Mimie. My body bouncing with my breaths.

I nervously laugh and say, “Lets check!”

Mimie walks in the bathroom and I follow behind her. She stops and stares at the tester.

“I can’t look”, she says

The pregnancy test is balancing on the ledge. Mimie was about two feet from it, but I could sense her apprehensiveness in regards to even being in the bathroom with it. She reached out and grabbed it and passed it over her shoulder without even a gaze. I didn’t mind looking at it, I tried to ease the tension.

“You did hand me the non pee end right?” I said cringing my nose. She’s not amused. I was staring at the back of her head, but her reflection in the mirror captured her face.

I examine the stick,“ I can’t make this thing out.” I said out loud. I look closer at it, holding the plastic object about an inch from my nose as my eyes burning a hole through it.

“What do you mean you can’t make it out. If there is two lines I’m pregnant.” She says, turning around to stare at me.

I continue to fixate my eyes on the lines trying to determine if the faded second line is positive for pregnancy or not.

“Look at it Mimie. It’s faint, I cant read it.” I hand her the tester shaking my head.

Mimie examines it with as much intensity as I did. Her face said it all.

“Shit, I can’t read it either.” Mimie exclaimed.

I walk over to the bed and grab the instructions out of the box. As I fumble with trying to unfold it, I drop it to the bed and reach out to take the pregnancy tester out of Mimie’s hand.

Once I unfold the “instructions inside” , that is more tightly wound then Mimie and I. I hold it up in the air with my left hand. I then grab the tester and place her pee stick by the manuals side. I don’t know what I was trying to get out of it by comparing the two, maybe I thought the bedroom light would shed more light on our dilemma.

But comparing it this way wasn’t working.

“Just pee on the second stick I guess.” I was getting so frustrated.

I fish the other tester from the box, remove the package for her and hand Mimie the other pregnancy stick.

“Your suppose to wait until the next day before you try again”, Mimie said.

“I know, but the anticipation sucks”, I said staring at her, holding the clean pregnancy test in my hand. She grabs it from without hesitation and we go another round.

Another faded line.

We both know deep down that she is pregnant. She is in tune with her body and she “just knows.” But we would like to know for sure. She could hardly contain herself and I knew she wouldn’t rest easy unless we knew for sure. Besides, who knew when we could get a doctors appointment.

“Fuck it I’m going back to Walgreens.” We both are just too anxious.

“They have a digital tester that either says, ‘Pregnant or Not Pregnant.’ It’s a pregnant stick for dummies.”

Mimie agrees with me.

I get dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. I search for my sandals and I head out the front door.

I get into my personal car and drive back to the store. I don’t like to drive my patrol car off duty much, it’s just a moving billboard when your off duty.

Thoughts about what we went through back in 2006 and what we are going through now rush through my mind, “Are we putting too much pressure on ourselves with trying to get pregnant? Maybe we just need to heal first.”

This pregnancy game is exhausting. I thought baby making was easy. I mean this isn’t turning out to be the birds and the bees talk my parents gave me when I was a kid. Its more like the Beaver and the dammed.

I walk into Walgreens to search for the digital pregnancy test.

I nod at the cashier as I walk through the automatic double doors. There was about nine people in her line, but my appearance before her seems like déjà vu and she does a double take. After all, I was just there fifteen minutes ago. I give a friendly wave to her and she’s oblivious to my suavity.

I work my way around the people in line and head directly to the isle twelve where the pregnancy tests, condoms and other sexual needs are.

My enthusiasm changed to frustration as I weed through the plethora of items on the well stocked shelves.
We both have to be tired of this pregnancy run around. It just doesn’t feel normal. I mean the natural thing is to get married and have a baby, right? Simple enough. But it seems every time we turn around there’s a brick wall trying to delay the process. Is this a sign?

I find the digital pregnancy tester and grab it off the hook that was prominently displaying it right under my nose. I read the box.

“Easy to use, easy to read, pregnant results in as early as 1 minute. Use any time of day.”

Simple.

I hurriedly walk back to the girl at the cash register, She got her line down to two customers since they opened another register. I finally get my turn to be served and she doesn’t give me a second look this time. She’s too busy complaining to the other clerk about how shitty her job is.

The clerk is a young girl in her late teens early twenties. This job is clearly a pit stop for her until she reaches her dreams of cosmetology school. She doesn’t care that I am standing before her. I just wish she’d hurry up and ring up my would be purchase. I have bigger things to deal with.

“$8.57”, she says.

I swipe my credit card in the little grey box that’s affixed to the counter. I know from my past visit that anything under twenty dollars does not require you to sign the sales receipt. I see the word “APPROVED” scroll across the screen, I grab the box and walk out the door, this time I don’t give her the second look.

Driving is therapeutic and it soothes my anxiety. I’ll learn to appreciate that as the years go by. For now, it doesn’t help me on this short drive home from Walgreens with a eight dollar and fifty cent non organic object holding our fate in its non existent hands.

You don’t expect things to be so hard in life. As a human being you pride yourself on doing the right things. Mimie and I were no different.

We are just everyday people, living our lives the best we can by doing the right things that make all of us human. When you go through something as traumatic as losing such a precious gift like the girls, you feel like the dammed. We just wanted things to go right for us so bad that it seemed to do the opposite and will the bad into our lives. Although people go through this everyday, when its happening to you, you feel like the only people on earth being challenged.

When I got home the third time with our second pregnancy test, I was just spent.

My twelve hour day had just quickly moved to fourteen hours, if you count the time when I had to get up and start my day.

I was hot and sweaty from being on the go since I got home. Poor Mimie sat in the bed not worried if she could or couldn’t get pregnant. The bigger picture with her was “What is wrong with me.”

There was never anything wrong with Mimie’s internal abilities to make a baby. But when you try and fail in spectacular fashion in the loss of the twins with no answer as to why. You start to look at yourself.

Its easy to tell Mimie that it isn’t her fault. But I can’t convince someone that they aren’t defective if they already perceive themselves that way.

She didn’t think she wanted kids growing up. Most people don‘t. That theory was compounding her speculation that she wasn’t meant to have any. She said to me later in life after the boys were born that even her sisters thought she “wasn’t the motherly type.”

Yet here she is surprising everybody with the will to bear children. Although, it didn’t surprise me. Mimie was a wonderful, warm, and caring person to her children. She loved them above all else.

I on the other hand always knew I wanted kids, since I myself a kid. Mimie was so shocked at that. She would later tell me that I “was a weird kid for wanting kids” with a smile of course.

I can’t tell you why I wanted kids so bad, I’m not a psychologist. Maybe it’s because my parents were divorced when I was two.

I do not think she wanted to be pregnant for me. I know deep down she wanted kids for herself. She thought that it was only natural since our relationship was strong and we both had a lot of love to share. Making babies was suppose to be fun. But it seems only fun when you get pregnant on accident because the thought of getting pregnant when you didn’t want them seemed absurd.

This process didn’t seem hard when you took Health in school. It was suppose to be a natural process of life. After all your parents have kids, namely you, how hard could it be?

I remember as a child finding out how babies were made.



Click here for Part III » Be Positive





Creative Commons License
Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Day Job

The Boss and CEO

May 22nd, 2012

I’m sitting in my minivan waiting for my sons’ teacher to escort him out. I got here pretty early which is great, because I’m not too far back from the entrance of the school. I have clear line of site when teacher and student walk out of the heavy metal doors that remind me more of a fortress than a learning institution.

Although when you’re a kid, is there a difference?

Its not even close to 1:50 PM. That’s about the time I’ll first spot them as they make the trek down the long winding sidewalk to their waiting parents, who have been patiently on hold until their arriveal. Mimie use to do this all the time. This was her job, as the stay at home mom. And no body does it better then mom.

Taking care of three lives isn’t an easy task. Its up in the morning. Getting your school age son ready for class. Packing up the little one, who isn’t quite school age yet, but he can‘t be left behind. Traveling to the school and returning home, for a little tender, love, and care for the baby.

Your commute is reversed as the stay at home mom.

After you drop your child off at school you travel back to your office, your home. There’s no clock to punch, just mouths to feed. After you park in your assigned parking space and enter your enterprise, you head straight to the kitchen to feed the boss, your two year old. Who by now, has been up for almost an hour with no food and he’s chewing you out for not having his daily meal ready.

There is no assistance with getting this job done. It‘s just you and him.

In between the food preparation the dogs sit patiently by their bowls waiting for their turn to be fed. If your lucky, you may find time to start the coffee pot, so that when you are done with the crew, you may be able to take care of yourself and enjoy a caffeinated treat.

The boss cries as you do your best to get his work done in a timely fashion.

You run to the television and put on his favorite show hoping that maybe, the sound of Sesame Street will calm his demeanor like a favorable stock option that is paying dividends. When your done preparing the meal, you serve him, hoping he’ll accept the proposal you have just presented him. As he chews on it and mulls it over, deciding if he’ll eat it or not, its time to feed the dogs.

In the haste to get their food prepared and try to find time to feed your self, before the two year old alters your plan, the first big decision of the day comes.

Do I give the dogs dry dog food or mix it with the wet food as you usually do? It’s an executive decision based on your need to eat and the need to please the dogs. After you give in to the wants of your pooches and mix the dog food it’s time to prepare your own meal.

You toast a bagel and pour your coffee while you fry an egg, all at the same time.

Taking a quick time out to check on your boss and make sure he is comfortable with his meal. His plate is nearly empty and the dogs barely eating, it makes you suspect there is a little more going on. Realizing that the meeting of the minds between canine and human is going on way to long, and trying to keep a schedule, you break up the pow wow and send the dogs outside.

Once the back door is shut a smell of burnt toast reminds you that your breakfast just went down the tubes.

In the struggle to eat, in this dog eat dog world, you deal with the consequences of leaving your food too long. You eat around the edges of the bagel only to realize that it’s a circular object so you eat from the middle, working your way out, discarding the rest in the trash. You scoop up your eggs and swallow it down as you chase it with your morning brew.
 
So far, two hours into your morning shift, the day barely beginning, your ready to just take a break.

So before the dishes are done you sit on the couch, only to have to get up again and let the barking dogs in. On the way back to finish your break you get intercepted by the boss who lets you know his diaper is ready for the waste. So according to OSHA guidelines you bend at the knees when you pick him up and carry him to the changing station.

Once your settle him in at his usual place and all parties are ready to go, you realize that the shelves weren’t stocked by the night shift.

Now in hopes that your boss will stay, you run to the baby bag resting by the door and grab all the supplies you need. Thrilled with your ingenuity to find his toiletries, the boss gladly stayed where you left him. He allows you to wipe his butt, because kissing his ass will do you no good.

After he’s changed, you’ve missed your break and head back clean the kitchen.

Like making the bed every morning, you question the purpose, since you’ll only being messing it up for lunch and dinner. Its like you have eight arms as you push away your boss, who standing over your shoulder, hoping to get the chance to get his hands wet and show how you how its done. Your able to load the dish washer, as he stands on the open washer door, all in good fun, for him.

You walk from room to room gathering the clothes that litter the floors, like a maintenance worker after a rock concert.

You pause with the basket on your knee as you thumb through the DVD’s to find a movie of his liking, hoping to distract the boss, so you can get your own projects done. You arrive to the washer with the boss in tow, who tries to help you out. Of course he hands you the wrong tools you need to do your job and you just smile and accept it without a confrontation. When he runs away, because the television is calling, you do it the way it should be done. He’ll take the credit anyway.

In between the cleaning, you follow your boss around to clean up the mess he has left behind. Its such a thankless job, because your son thinks this is how life works. How little does he know that this isn’t how the real world survives, just like a typical boss.

After the chores are done, you think you can breath and relax on the couch. But between the dogs barking the dish washer going, the television blaring, the washer machine humming, the phone ringing and your son talking to you , the moment of rest is forgotten. You can only hope to zone out and fantasize about an island somewhere and collect all the sounds and place them in your thoughts.

The barking dogs are the native wild life, coinciding with the humming of the dish washer making the sound of the ocean, the television blaring is just the waiter asking for your drink order, the washer machine humming is a plane over head, the ringing phone is the local church tolling its bell and your talking son is telling you they love you over and over.

Suddenly, without notice, your distracted by a jump on your crotch, its funny how a two year old always seems to land there when they are jumping on you for your attention. You advise the boss its nap time and lay him in his bed only to hear him cry himself to sleep. Funny, about the only thing we have in common.

When he wakes its time to head out and pick up the CEO.

And here you sit in his limo, waiting for him to appear as he’s escorted by his posse. Their day is ending but mine is still continuing until they sleep for the night.

As I get out of the van to greet him, I can only hope that he has accepted his dads tall figure approaching him when it use to be his moms. I can only do my best to do what my predecessor did before me in this, the hardest day job I’ve ever had.




© Copyright 2012 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.

Monday, May 21, 2012

There's Always Time, Part I





May 21st, 2012

I decided to tell this story because it was a pivotal loss we had between losing the twins and the birth of our oldest son, Nico. It was a trying time for her and I. That stretch of time tested everything our relationship was about and everything it was going to be. We were desperate to heal ourselves and try to replace the loss we suffered on that terrible October morning in 2006 when we suffered a double loss of twins the morning we were scheduled to give birth. Mimie was very strong but strength can only last so long.

Part I

Not many friends or extended family are aware that Mimie and I had a miscarriage in between the pregnancies of the twin girls and Nico. We kept it private because we felt a curse had been cast upon us.

We gave ourselves less than a year to recover from the loss and burial of Gabriella and Sophia. I don’t know why we tried to get pregnant so soon after their loss. Maybe it was because we wanted to fill the void in our hearts that we couldn’t heal no matter what kind of counseling we went to.

Day in and day out we walked among the living like zombies. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t fill our souls with life. It was better to feel dead inside then appreciate another day that we were given on this earth.

Everything we did reminded us of the children that we lost. We drove a mini-van, that we got when we traded in our small SUV, that was empty like our hearts. The second bedroom was set-up as the girls nursery that sat behind a locked door, unoccupied. White sheets adorned the double cribs that sat on either side of the room. They were filled to the top with all the girls baby clothes that we received during our baby shower. Disney pictures from our favorite movies were beautifully framed and hung on the walls, but there was no one to see them. No laughter to be heard. No babies cries or giggles, no lullabies and certainly, no pitter patter of little feet. We were in hell.

Everything made us unhappy.

After her body healed from her c-section, we thought we could reverse the heaviness of losing our daughters by having another child to expedite our recovery. She got the okay from her doctor to try again. Our love making seemed more like a vocation to redemption more so then procreation. But our love for one and other never waned and our purpose was the personification of love making.

Months of trying eventually led up to the two words we wanted to hear.

“I’m pregnant”, Mimie said. Her face beaming with a large smile on her face.

“What?” I asked. I stared at her. I was scared, nervous and happy all at once. She caught me off guard because I had just got home from working a long twelve hour shift. I mean I was still in my police uniform.

“Baby, I missed my period. I didn’t want to tell you but its been over a week now. I can feel it within me. I am pregnant . But I need a pregnancy test to be sure!”, she said with so much enthusiasm. The most she has shown since the loss of the twins.

Mimie didn’t have to tell me a third time. I left immediately still dressed in my police "blue" uniform.

Walking briskly, I got into my police car and went to the local pharmacy to pick out a pregnancy test. I arrived to Walgreens, a local pharmacy and convenience store.

I could barely contain my walk as I entered through the doors of the store. If I ran, curious on lookers would have been frighten with the sight of a police officer running full speed into the business. I asked the clerk where I could find the pregnancy tests. She politely told me, "by the condoms, isle twelve."

With all the patrons staring at me, I think she did that on purpose, I hurriedly make my way to isle twelve.

If you haven’t searched for a pregnancy test lately, if at all, I can tell you it is a very daunting task. The variety is more extensive then the selection of condoms that are strategically placed right next to them just as the young clerk had told me.

“Which one do I choose”, I say looking at the boxes that are neatly stocked on the shelf.

“First Response: Rapid Results”, fast response? Don’t you just pee on it.
“Clear Blue Easy”, aren’t they all easy.
“Fact Plus . When you want the facts.”
“Fast and Easy”, generic sounds good to me. 

So many to choose from. Where the hell is the convenience in this? I select the Fast and Easy tester. I wondered if they meant the brand or the user.

I get in line to purchase the baby tester. "You found them", the cashier says with a smile on her face. "Yup isle twelve, right where you said they'd be." I pay for my purchase and without delay get in my police car and drive away.

I drove straight home. I was so tempted to drive back to the house with my lights and sirens on. I was so excited of the idea of being a dad.

I turn the car down my block and approach my house, “Okay Chris” I think to myself as I breath in deep expanding my chest out. I exhale, “She could just be late and not pregnant. Pace yourself .” I prepare myself for the worst.

I pulled my police car in its usual spot in the swale, close to the street. I could barely back off from my enthusiasm.

I exit my police car and slowly walked towards the front door. My excitement turning into fear. I wanted to enjoy the moment just in case the moment would end when I walked through that door.

My foot leaves the grassy area of the swale and touches the concrete sidewalk. I take small steps at first as I begin my journey up the center walkway that runs through my front yard that leads to the mailbox out by the street. My steps extend to medium sized ones then larger ones, until I can barely contain myself and found myself walking in a fast pace. Almost a sprint to the front door.

I extend my arm towards the outside door handle. I didn’t want to break my stride but I realize my right hand is empty. I stop in my tracks. I raise my left arm looking at my left hand and see that its empty too. I stand on my front porch staring at the door.

“Shit, I forgot the pregnancy test in the car.”

After returning to the car and retrieving the pregnancy "stick", I returned to the house and calmly walked in the front door, I seek out Mimie immediately.

“Mimie, I’m home”, I announce out loud as I stand in the living room. This time with the prized pregnancy test in my hand.

“I’m in the bathroom waiting” She said in a muffled tone.

Our master bedroom is towards the back of the house and if you don’t speak loud enough your voice won’t be amplified to travel through our bedroom, down the long stretching hallway and into the living room area.

I hurriedly walk towards her low voice which I can hear calling me from our bedroom. I head down the long hallway and open the plastic bag and begin removing the box containing the answer to what we’ve been longing for, a pregnancy. After I pull it out of the white Walgreens shopping bag I release the bag from my grasp. The plastic parachute falls towards the ground like leaves from a tree. My momentum too fast for the slow moving object and my waist collides with it.

The plastic container clings to the front of my pants at the crotch level, before air pushes it down between my legs and forces it into the opposite direction that I‘m traveling in. I leave the plastic bag in my dust as it floats aimlessly behind me into the rest of the house.

I reach the bedroom and rush in through the partially closed door. I quickly make a right turn, making a beeline right to the bathroom.

I tear the top tab off the box that contains not one but two pregnancy tests. Once the top is off I disregarded it to the ground. My knee hit’s the little cardboard flap and it disappears somewhere under the bed. I pull one of the two testers’ out of the box. Tossing the box with the extra tester in it, on top of the bed. Our queen pillow top mattress softening the bounce and it lands on the cozy comforter. I remove the tester from the sterile packaging as I reach the bathroom door.

“Your already on the toilet”, I ask Mimie, surprised.

She was sitting on the throne. Her pajama bottoms down around her ankles. She had her elbows on her knees. Her forearms were extended up. Her hands were balled up like fists and they were tucked under her chin.

“Yes”, Mimie said in a very mellow tone. She is staring down at the small beige 2” x 2” tile squares that cover the entire square footage of the floor.

“Babe, what’s wrong”, her melancholy concerning me.

She raises her head up slightly. She uses only her eyes to gaze up at me.

“What If I’m not pregnant you know. Maybe just maybe our only chance to have kids was lost with the twins.”

I could feel her concern rattle my insides. Her words cutting through me like a knife. But I understood her fear. I am living it with her.

I immediately bend over and place my right arm around the back of her shoulders. I pull her torso into me as her face tucks in under my neck.

“It doesn’t matter what happens with this test. There’s always time. Just breath.” I lean back and looked into her eyes all the while my arms never let go of our embrace.

I reach out with my left hand, sliding it in between out bodies and offer her the stick, “I think you just have to pee on it.” I said with a grin. I managed to get a smile out of her.

Click here for Part II » Getting Results










Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.


Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Lost at Sea



May 20th, 2012

The ocean crashes on the shore like thunder on a rainy night. I haven’t been to the beach since last summer but my love for it never changes. The warm water tingles my toes as I push my digits into the water saturated sand. The moons gravity forces the tide in as it circulates my legs. The breaking waves rushes past me in a hurry with really no place to go.

The surf’s bubbles create a layer of frost on top of the combers and rides the surge like a layer of foam you’d find on top of your favorite latte. The sun beats down on you adding the proper amount of heat from above and coolness from the aqua down below. The wind pulls the salt out of the drink and produces the unforgettable ocean air aroma.

Standing in the surf I gaze out at the deep blue sea and watch the world turn flat as it touches the horizon. I glance up into the sky and I see nirvana. Hoping my loved one is looking back at me I close my eyes and say a prayer as it floats away into wonderland. The continuous roar of the ocean grabs my attention, I open my eyes and get lost in its vast shoreline. I realize life starts here along the strand while I observe my boys playing in the ocean waves. I don’t need to pray, my prayers have been answered in the joy my children are having.

There is paradise here among the subsist. People are having fun as they enjoy the simple things in life. A cold beer, a quick snack or good times with the ones they love. The beach offers a relaxing feeling in an otherwise hectic week.

My kids sit in the shallow surf as it rolls over their body. I find my relaxation in the comfort of their pleasure as they find mutual gratification in the aquatic bliss. I focus on myself but can’t help but find I get lost in the exultation they have with every splash. As the salty water covers their little bodies like their favorite blanket I place over them to sleep, the force pushes them back as they place their hands behind them to fight against the surging water. Only losing as it topples them head over heals. I turn to pick them up but they laugh causing me to hesitate. Their smiles as wide as the mouth of the ocean's inlet, they quickly regain their composure and set themselves back up to take on the mighty sea again. I can only laugh and learn a lesson from their tenacity as they continue on their mighty fight against the odds.

I look back in the briny deep and hope that this beautiful day will continue and bring a better tomorrow. The seven seas speaking to me with each retraction of the waves after it touches the shore. The roar of the ocean demanding I take heed that there are greater things out their for me and that my life is as fragile as my kids in its crest. It tells me that my life can erode away like the sand I am standing on as it continues to pound relentlessly on the shore. Like a crashing wave engulfing the land, life can consume you. It can wash away the good and the bad. I can get pulled into its riptide and become lost in Davy Jones’ Locker or I can float on top of it and sail away into the sunset.

I sit in the sand and pick up seashells that have made their way on to the banks, where they rest among other shells that have been pushed along as they languished on the sea bed. I examine it and think of the stories it could tell the things its seen. Its perseverance paying off until it got ashore. I guess that’s why people collect them. The thinking that something so beautiful could survive such a deep dark unknown. The depths of the ocean, from where they derived from, black as night, until they reach the shallow ends of the clear water giving them hope that they will soon be at rest. Basking in the sunlight in their achievement once they have made it. Until its ready to give itself back to the sea.

I survey the ocean and observe all the life it holds from the bottom to the top. All walks of life enjoying everything she has to offer. If there is nothing that you can find that will satisfy your own life by the visual presence of the large body of water before you, then you just aren’t trying hard enough. And if that’s the case, then you just aren’t living. Your just lost at sea.






Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.


Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com