The Constant

If there is anything more flattering than a person pining for years over another person, I don’t know what it is, what I do know is that looking back at the last 2 decades, I realize that for the person pining, it could be painful.  Despite how saddening it might have been, somehow Mony grew up with me.  Somewhere in all that well wishing, memory searching, dreaming and wondering…let’s not forget wanting, she became someone I would speak to… In my mind at least.  Yes, I was that crazy guy arguing with myself on the rock in Central Park back in ’98… but I wasn’t arguing with myself… I was talking to Mony.

You might think it’s crazy, you might  think it’s weird, but somewhere  in all that desire, somewhere  in all that want, I found that as I grew older, I would wonder what she would say…and I didn’t remember her as a teenage girl, somehow in my mind’s eye (and ear) she grew up with me.  I would look  up at the moon in my toughest times and wonder what she was doing, wonder if she was looking up at the same moon, was she happy, was she healthy, was she suffering, sad, lost, and within that wonder I began to answer for her, and those answers resulted in conversations in my mind when I needed some kind of anchor in my crazy world.  She (albeit me) would  give me the kind of answers I needed to hear when I was letting weakness come over me…she would give me positive words of encouragement, a perspective I couldn’t see, and in my wanting for her, I found comfort in some tough moments because of her growing up with me.

I didn’t remember that little girl, her perspectives changed as mine did, the answers I got from her (me) were with grown up thought but with that core Mony way…and she became  my constant.  Always there when I needed comfort, she was my secret in many ways, because  no one knew what I drew on to stay grounded…it was thoughts of her more often than not.  And maybe in some therapeutic way, the Moon was the means of communication.  When it was bright in the sky I would look up and ask her how she was doing, asked her for help, asked her for advice…and for years I would get answers, even if they were only my own in her voice.  Regardless, she was my constant.

I held on to her so tight in my heart that I couldn’t have a normal (or what qualifies as normal) relationship…but that’s a blog for another day…I held on to her so tight that even through a marriage that was soooo fucked up, I somehow was able not to choke the ex…and believe me, there was more adultery, abuse, deceit and manipulation than you can shake a stick at…aside from the fact that there was this later diagnosed sickness, the marriage was a fucking farce…and all the hypocritical myths that kept us going back and forth, along with co-dependent behaviors…and mental issues, would have driven me to putting my ex in a box had it not been for the fact that I grounded myself in Mony.

Before, during and after the marriage, I had various relationships (if you could call them relationships) and none of them could fulfill my needs. Whether I let them or not is debatable, but face it…if you eat something and it tastes like shit, there’s a good chance you’ll pass on it…if you’re not getting what you need most, you’re shouldn’t be suffering it.  And I didn’t (again, another blog for another day).

Mony was always in my heart and mind, for 22 years, and when I realized I made that terrible mistake, it  became the only regret I ever have had, and believe me, I did some things in life that many would argue I should regret.  Mony became my constant, my ground to the currents of life, and as I go through every day with her, I realize how right I was.  The funny thing is that she gives me answers in real life that are not far off from when I was talking to her over the moon.

E. Vincent


About E. Vincent

Artist, Entrepreneur. Designer, Painter, Muralist, Illustrator, Writer. Business Analyst and Developer, Photography Caddy, Father, Lover, Fighter, Friend. INDESTRUCTIBLE, UNSTOPPABLE, INSEPARABLE, A Child of Destiny. Lover of Rembrandt, Da Vinci, Degas, Monet, Varga, Huerta, Royo, Adams, Swan, Lee, Warhol, Clarke, Bradbury, Serling and many other masters of the creative universe View all posts by E. Vincent

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