I think your forties are about self-reflection. About taking stock of things. Hopefully about being present in the way I always aspire to, with varying levels of success. Two months or so into them, that is my experience anyway.
It’s Been A Long Ass Time Read More »
Maybe the real sign of getting older is how many ‘days’ you collect; how many occasions there are to remember someone who has passed, milestones of personal tragedy and triumph, moments to take pause and remember.
It’s a primal life force, a mother’s love. For so many years after my mom passed I thought mostly of that aching loss, the loss of her undying devotion and love for me. Every word, every action, each argument even…they were all steeped in her immense love for me. I always felt it.
They’re not even digital. I recycle like its my job. Not water bottles, though I try. Photos of my mom. The pictures of pictures I post on these milestone days year after year. It kills me that not one of them is digital.
Is it just me or is the memory of your parents giving you ‘the talk’ seared in your mind’s eye as if it happened yesterday? I had pretty evolved parents, I mean, my mom was Swedish and well, you know those Swedes…she couldn’t wait to sit me down with that dreaded book with all those pictures.
So this is for you mom. That day when you were in your dressing room, and you took too long to come out, it comes to me all the time. I came in and you were crying. It was the moment the curtain was pulled back. You looked right at me and said “what if I have to leave you?”
Today was the day I capsized. Again. At this point its like my emptiness is swollen shut. Scabbed over and doused with enough social grace not to unload it on unsuspecting, ill-equipped listeners. All but those closest confidants are spared the ugliness of my feelings.
Hello from the Charlotte Airport. It’s been the freaking longest day ever. But I delivered my package safely and intact. We started at 5am and the first part was easy. Even ran into an NFL player at our gate. Of course, I only noticed because of his rings. Colt marched right up and asked him if they were Superbowl Rings. They were. Roland Williams.
The latter half of this week I spent in the mountains of western North Carolina where my oldest son Colt is enrolled in a school for boys on the autism spectrum. I share this because I think it is critical to talk about accommodations and challenges for children with special needs as well as engender solidarity whenever possible.
In My Mind I’m Going To Carolina Read More »
I am afraid to write about this. So I will. Matt didn’t exactly want a third child. Not then at least. Picture it. New Year’s Day. 2011. I invited him to The Capital Grille for a boozy lunch. And I had an agenda. I bided my time, talking about this and that, and every so often gesticulating to the waiter to signify my desire for another round.
