Memory

All I had to do was…

help him from his hospital bed

to his portable toilet

in the middle of the living room

that was all I had to do

but

he was wearing briefs.

All I had to do was…

pull them down,

that was all I had to do

but

he was my Pa,

my Dad,

the only man I ever loved.

All I had to do…

with my sixteen year-old body was,

brace him with my shoulder,

pull down his briefs

but

I didn’t know how,

I couldn’t look him in the face.

All I had to do was…

set him down

but

I didn’t

until the second time we tried

his face in panic.

All I have to do is…

remember if I got them down,

did he feel relief,

did I forget to be his granddaughter,

his daughter,

his baby girl

and help him one last time,

his last time out of bed

the last time we stood and leaned into each other.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

For Kathleen - you are so much in my thoughts lately.

I wrote this nearly fifteen years after it happened. It’s strange the way memory, guilt and longing stays with you. It ebbs and flows but ultimately settles to a place where you can at least find some peace.

Today

I’m missing an old friend, desperately.

Is the day before the last day with a student I have had for two years, a student that I watched literally explode with the love of learning - she learned to read, write and become a storyteller right before my very eyes.

I’m high on anxiety because I’m taking vacation. (I seriously have worse transition and separation issues than my nearly five-year-old.)

I feel like I can’t quite grasp myself, as if I’ve seeped into my aura and cannot be contained by my skin. Frustrating, frightening, slightly psycho.

I’m needing a little Shelter From the Storm.

Seaweed Heart Chambers

Roughing It

Sun-up. Clump, clump, clump, feet on stairs. Bedroom door sails open, smash, smacks wall. “MAMA! YOU DIDN’T SLEEP WITH ME!”

Caught. Deer in headlights. Sleeping alone.

The best thing about camping in the back yard, (besides the S’mores, a mosquito-chasing ravenous fire, reading books by lamplight in the tent, all three of us snuggling to sleep under stars, and just how unbelievably happy she was), is guiltily sneaking upstairs before dawn to slumber away, stretched out and alone for a few brief moments.

Well, before I was busted and had to explain my irrational behavior.

Thank God We Weren’t in the Woods

Last night both Autumn and I were up visiting and revisiting the bathroom facilities due to some horrible intestinal malady. In between crying jags, toilet sharing and 3:00am sitz baths, we shivered under the covers as I read aloud 117 pages of Bill Bryson’s, A Walk in the Woods. I think Bill would love to know that his rediscovery of America helped save our sanity a little bit as we pretended we were sleeping in the woods vs. falling asleep on the toilet.

Now I’m ready to hike, but the Pacific Crest Trail will do me just fine - I’d hate to be taking a crap in the woods and hear “squeal like a pig for me” from behind.

Rebuilding America - One Plastic Toy at a Time

I’ve been informed that it’s un-American not to buy shit. Have you heard this side of the argument? Apparently I’m delusional and am in need of more crap. Please come to my house, you will see, I need NO MORE SHIT! I could probably duplicate Hong Kong with only the plastic crap found on my floor. And in fact, I’ve probably paid at least one Target employees yearly salary shopping there.

Anyway. Happy 4th of July! I’ll be at Target buying camping equipment - this at least I can use outdoors.

Breathing Again

It’s funny how you can spend days wallowing in frustration, not sure how to get out of it - possibly washing out the house with a fire house or indulging in a nice colon cleanse.

Then you just let go. Maybe it was the thunder storm or the backyard tent/campfire/S’mores/”forget bedtime tonight darlin’ cause we’re partyin’” or maybe it was just me remembering to breathe for Christ sake - breathe already woman so that everyone around you can too.

I forget sometimes. It’s all that pent up shit I’ve been packing around for a lifetime and have been waiting ever so patiently to have insurance so that I can find a great shrink to help me slap a bandage on it. I’m in desperate need of some anxiety management although not in capsule form.

And I apologize. Especially to Autumn. Because she’s not even five and I’m thirty-five and I often feel like I’m completely tripped up by the details of living that I can’t see the forest for the freakin’ trees.

If I could somehow change into the Lady of Guadalupe - sublime, perfection, an aura larger than fucking life. And I’m not even catholic.

Today was grand, smoky and star studded. I could feel the pulse of my true motherhood. I heard her every request. Every encounter was noted, gentle, remembered. Even her hollering was somehow endearing.

Am I the only one who goes through this, the forgetting and wallowing? I swear it seems like everyone else is just point on perfection with chubby hands dripping ice cream cones without even a thought to a napkin.

Or maybe we’re just settling in to being home together again, just in time to change back again.  Or maybe it’s because she didn’t have ANY sugar today.  Or it might possibly be that looming birthday - my baby is going to be what - 5?  Did I mention anything about anxiety - and yes it runs in the family.

I’ve never wanted a tattoo but I think I need one - a visible one that just says, “breathe.”

Days Off

Besides tiptoeing around my daughter like she’s a bull in a china shop, I’ve not done much with this week off. Well, I worked of course because who doesn’t work when they are on vacation.

I did plant two raspberry bushes, two blueberry bushes, went camping without my family for one night, didn’t clean the house although I really did try - for fuck sake I need some organization.

We didn’t go to the zoo, mostly due to the attitude funk we’ve seem to have fallen into around here. The lake seemed too hot one day and too rainy the next. Hopefully we’ll try these by the end of the week. Why is it that we seem to have a rough go of it when we have all the time in the world to do anything we want - we’re not so good at schedule changes around here I guess.

But I did reupholster my dining room chairs on a whim. Autumn helped with the fabric holding and stapling. I used some hand-me-down, what I believe to be old curtains. I reupholstered these chairs once before, just after I had Autumn, and I must have been high - Toile, what was I thinking? This fabric is much more suited to our funky 50’s household.

We’ve had a fun, thunder-shower morning together, so we’re off for some adventure. Autumn is in need of some craft sticks. She has a plan to make a dog house (what else?) out of Popsicle sticks and glue. And who am I to get in the way of her plan. I guess it’s a good thing they aren’t sold in china shops.

Thinking Loving Thoughts, Thinking Loving Thoughts

I can count the number of times on one hand that Autumn has hit me.  But tonight as I sat one the couch talking with her and I happen to mention the dreaded “bedtime,” she came at me full force with both hands and rammed me in the chest.  It really, really hurt.  Wow, how hard is it not to turn into a two-year-old and hit back.  Let’s just say bedtime came awfully fast after that.

So, I’m just going to look at this awfully sweet picture and think a million loving thoughts.

Sarah Turns 40!

Home made banana cake (by request) from Amy!

I made her a few gifts too.

My first bag with a lining - I’m still a beginner. This is from Bend-the-Rules Sewing by Amy Karol.

A glass beaded rainbow necklace.

My first stencil/spray paint wall art.

It feels so good to make things for people. Happy Birthday Sarah!