7.13.2008

A History of Bliss

At the risk of being accused of jumping on friends' blogging bandwagons, I shall offer my own thoughts about bliss. The first word that came to mind is "fleeting." My experience with bliss is that never lasts very long and is often followed or preceeded by experience or feeling that is painful or pedestrian. Because of that fleeting thang, it hasn't been easy to think of that many specific moments that stand out in memory. Here are a few:

My father's parents used to live in a house at the end of a long, tree-lined driveway in Dallas, and I can remember enduring the long drive from Blanco, but the moment we turned into that driveway (usually late at night as we'd leave after my Dad finished work) I was happy. Those initial moments of being wrapped in my grandmother's embrace, seeing the lights from the house, being allowed to stay up late with my grandmother and watch The Tonight Show--bliss.

There was a distinct moment, in the summer of of 1981, after the Mayflower van had already begun the trip to Ft. Worth and after all the good-bye parties had come and gone, and when my family drove north on Hwy 281 out of Blanco, that I felt a real sense of freedom and possibility of my own life. Not as much fun realizing how much I've screwed it up since then--but the remembrance of the moment and that feeling? Bliss.

Riding in my first "real" boyfriend's Chevy Impala, thigh to thigh, listening to Foreigner--but the real bliss would occur for the two minutes or so during "I've Been Waiting For a Girl Like You" and he would squeeze my hand. Uh huh. Foreigner.

One of the few moments of bliss during my marriage--we lived in a house on a lake--and occasionally on Sunday evenings we would sit on the dock with our feet in the water and laugh about how out-of-place we felt in that place and in that church. It offered rare moments of true companionship. I also had a beautiful garden at that same house, and I swear I grew the most fabulous vegetables. I would go out early in the a.m. and pick tomatoes to take to people at work, and then come home and cook squash, tomatoes, and onions that I picked from my own garden just minutes before. Utter bliss, I tell you.

When I watched my nephew being born--bliss followed by terror realizing he had poor respiratory function followed by hours in the ICU, then bliss again (and still some terror) when I held him and knew I would love him all of my life.

When Sophie was 10 weeks old, she decided to go on a little camping trip without me, and was missing for two days. Shmonkey was driving around with me in the rain, looking for her, when a woman called me saying she saw a puppy matching Sophie's description dead in the road, and then ten minutes later another woman calling to say she saw her in a place only 2-3 blocks from where we were. Sure enough, we rounded the corner, and Shmonkey was out of the car before I came to a complete stop, running across the street and scooping her wet body into his arms. Holding her in my lap as we drove back to the Manor--Bliss. And Shmonk--I will love you forever for that moment alone.

That weekend with ____, and that weekend with ____. Bliss was VERY short-lived-but memories still bring a smile.

Standing on the top of Enchanted Rock just before I left San Antonio, my marriage, others' expectations of how I was supposed to live my life, and an entire, and mostly painful, chapter of my life. Fear before, and I knew more doubt and fear was waiting for me when I climbed down, but for those moments of feeling secure and right in my decision--bliss.

Crawling into pre-warmed sheets in the wintertime. Bonus bliss points for when I don't have to get up for work the next day.

We had our first almost-100 degree day here in Colorado last week, and while we do not have high humidity to worry about, the sun can be pretty intense. But by sundown, the temperature usually drops 30-40 degrees and by the time I take Soph out for her last walk before bedtime, the air is cool, but also blissfully soft.

If you have read this far, my apologies. I linked to Shmonk's bliss post, and I think he is one of 2-3 people who read this blog, so if by chance there are others, you can find links to Skajlab's as well as others' bliss posts from there.

2 comments:

Road Trip Girl said...

Love your post. Thanks for joining and feel free to do so anytime. P.S. I love tomatoes, squash, and onions - my grandmother used to make it for me.

Shmonkey said...

Minerva, thanks for participating. I linked to your blog from mine.

I remember the weekend of Sophie's camp out--It was a weekend of going from whatever is the polar opposite of bliss to utter bliss. That first phone call was one of the worst moments of my life and I was so worried you'd given up hope.

Now I understand why my parents never sent me to camp! ;-)