Especially to all of you out there who wonder if you’re enough.
You are. You always were.
The amount of courage, instinct, soul and love that go into being a mother is something I can only witness, but not truly understand. I’ll continue to watch and to listen well; especially during those moments when my attempts have failed.
Megan, Gavin is so very lucky to have you as his mother.
Driving to the pub, I knew I wouldn’t like sitting at the bar as much as if my family was with me, but I drove anyway and felt the unease of knowing how I’d already feel while at the bar with my book. I parked and looked at the entrance to the pub. It wasn’t much to look at but I looked anyway. Inside, it was much as I expected it to be. The bartender asked where my family was. I told her that they ditched me. They didn’t want to come to the pub, this time. She smiled and said that our son was handsome and that he was always polite. I like that things don’t feel as good when I’m at the pub without my family. I ordered a Guinness and read from my book, Growth of the Soil.
And he had stayed while the rain came down; he had stayed while she sat alone, only a blanket provided comfort, and he looking out the window at the rain thinking about how he might need to leave or to maybe not be in the same place as her, anymore, and the rain came and nothing mattered about any of it other than the thinking of what to do and the thinking of what to do meant something needed to be done.
I came out of that surgery like a sling shot! Wide awake and wanting all the crackers they could bring me. “Would you like water or ginger ale?”
“Both.” I sat up and was ready to run. I could have easily driven home. Going under isn’t always fun. Thoughts creep in. Are these the last faces I’ll see? I don’t want to leave my family over an arm. Alone. Covid regulations.
They gave me a block in my neck which has paralyzed my left arm. I feel like Wesley in The Princess Bride. I can wiggle my fingers.
This is fun though! I enjoy new scars and love new mornings.
There are children’s footprints in the snow just outside my window. Only a few years ago I paced the floors of my studio apartment while talking to myself. Now though, there’s a five year old under my desk as I type. He’s thumbing through Charles Bukowski’s The Last Night Of The Earth Poems while asking me questions about wolves. I still talk to myself. But the emptiness is gone.
At 3:38 AM an orb appeared above and to the left of our bed. The orb floated upward, lengthened and vanished. I had just returned from having gone downstairs to drink a glass of water. I was wide awake.
Whatever it was, was non-threatening.
Do any of you have any experience with something like this?
The orb arrived just after I had crossed my heart and started to pray for my family.