It’s come more and more to our attention that we are missing some time. Maybe even years. This would explain some “distortions” in our timeline; our confusion sometimes about when what happened where . . .
You see, this is what’s some to our attention: we can’t remember a single time we moved. Not once. At least not until we were an adult. All those moves between 0-14, 15 years old? Gone. Like nothing ever happened.
And here’s the even more sinister thing (or at least we get a feeling of dread about it) – those “missing years” – which we can barely account for. Those years between five and ten? (Mikie’s young years.) Good memory (for we have ‘recovered’ that ‘individual’). Those years – that day – when we woke up in Germany (at the age of ten – we think!) – THAT day is purely imprinted on my mind (meaning Mikie’s young mind) – we were tired and we were miserable, and suffering from jet-lag – shuffling from one hotel to another (always a German one) – then getting . . . ?????
and that’s it . . . quick snapshots, memories of various places – we are ‘recovering’ memories of that period quicker now – but even so – the going is so very freakin’ slow, jerky – hard, but …
Names of towns roll off my tongue – I know them. Crailsheim, Schwäbisch Hall , Worms. Stuttgart, Mainz – tumbling through them like a childish weed; wide eyed wonder – castles, museums, dungeons, people – this from a country child’s point of view – languages he can’t speak, words he can’t read – hell, even some of the letters look different . . . the seven he had learned to once write becomes wrong . . . he’s required to put a bar through it; now it looks like a cursive “T” . . .
I don’t know how many times we must have moved those first few years – I have absolutely NO memory . . . where are the boxes? the long rides??? Don’t remember a one of those at all . . .
This, we fear, comes from “the incident” which happened (just coincidentally) at about this time of year (October thirtyfirst, of course!) – during our last summer – our last autumn, and our last Halloween during our time in the hood.
We left then a month later
and it was a horrible thing … (okay, yah, we gots the voices fighting and arguing inside, debating the merits and weight and importance of those events in that time, during that day and night, and the days and nights before which led up into then – that night on Halloween . . .)
And yet: Halloween remains one of our most favorite times of years. But there are troubling aspects around it as well; that one Halloween . . . always comes back to haunt us . . .
as Halloween should. (no, no . . . we won’t go into that – it’s too dark and dismal and sad and brings up so much bad emotions and things … sad things…)
But this missing “time” – it’s about missing personalities, in some sense. “These” (there are two definite “times”, or spans of ‘years’ when our memories are very ‘dim’ and fragmented – and there is pain in there). Two “parts” of ourself that “went missing” some time ago – taking their “times” ‘with them’ (sorry about all the quotation marks – we can’t figure out when or where to use them sometimes!).
The question is: what else went “missing” when they “go” (meaning “they are around here” – stirring around in my head like a wood spoon knocking about in a dark kettle – what did – or do ‘they’ take?? What ‘parts’ or abilities go missing when “they” are not around???
Each part of us makes the whole of us (something our wife sorta reminded us last night) – and if we are “missing” a part – then we are missing something in our emotional/mental makeup, and can be missing out on more subtle things as well. A depth of love? A degree of hatred? We don’t know – you never know until you can figure these things out – and sometimes it takes years.
Sometimes (I reckon) – it’s gonna take a ‘lifetime’.
But this we do know: the “one” from “back then” – is Mikie during ‘his’ transition period to “The Machine” – which is something the teenager ‘broke’ (after basically finding himself trapped within it – having reinforced the creation within himself) – but this would be the ‘birthing’ period of Matthew, so to speak; his background: those transitory years during our time in Germany.
Then again at about 21 – happened again. There’s some breaks and lapses, but it’s not so bad as at the younger age. And we have “his” journals to help us: Matthew’s writings (See “The Lost Journals”, menu item above). But – it’s very hard reading them. Not “hard to read” as in bad handwriting (which there is) – but hard to read as painful and beautiful and sad and hard and … lost and tortured – yes, even then, wishes for death – so very often!!!
(sigh. . . someone’s crying inside … it’s Matthew and the little one’s also sad; sad for him, Matthew, the burden he has to bring – and allow himself to become – to US, and to him, our little one, Mikie, the one he’s been protecting for so long . . .)
Poor Matthew. We love him . . . but he has trouble to understand; we forgive – but he turns his head in sadness (shame? guilt, too) – but that’s okay, too . . .
That’s what we’re for…