i'm sitting here flooded with halloween memories. vague memories made fuzzy by the years and the candy- back then and now again. i'm feeling nostalgic. like i want every weekend to be halloween. i want cat ears to be accepted accessories in the grocery store year round. and i want my kids to feel excited going up to a neighbor's door that is glowing with jack o' lantern grins.
as i was chatting with katie- each of us gushing with snip bits of our past halloween adventures- she encouraged me to tell this particular tale. it's scary, but not in the way you'd imagine.
i was in my teens- maybe 14. it might have been my last halloween in torrance, ca- shortly after this i was brought, under protest, to the northwest. halloween in california always involved some kind of haunted house. the neighbors would convert their entire house or we'd go to knott's scary farm to be chased by creeps in costumes. a group of friends had all decided to venture to a particular church to go to their haunted house.
i'm not sure if i knew what i was getting into. there was a short period of my life when i went to a first assembly of god church with my friend and her mom. so i knew the story of hell. for a spell, i believed it. i cried real tears because i knew my soul had been saved from that evil, dark place. looking back, i have no idea what sins i had imagined i committed? but by the time i was headed to "hell house" on halloween i had already figured out that i didn't need guilt to be a good human.
you may have heard about hell houses. they are a big business now. i've heard NPR do reports on them. back then, they were just beginning. so here's the premise: you die and go to hell.
here's what i remember.
my friend's brother or boyfriend had some connection with the place, so the door man relayed the message that we were to get the full treatment. like dante's worst ring of inferno. in southern cali. from teenagers.
we had a guide for the tour. the inside was pitch black. we huddled close together as we were led down a narrow hall. it had many turns, like a maze. and then the walls started to get smaller and smaller. until we were all squished together and trapped. not sure how we got out of that.
i remember walking on a bridge with hands underneath us, grabbing at our ankles.
people jumped out at us from hidden spots. flash lights. strobe lights. red lights. black lights.
then we were led into a large room with a stage of sorts. there we witnessed several skits about people who were now in hell. i remember the person who killed someone drunk driving. the girl who got an abortion. the gay teenager. at the end of the skit the condemned would whimper and cry out for salvation. alas, it was too late.
then folks came out to pray for us and our sinning teenage hearts. i think i was offered a bible. i didn't take it.
sitting here one click away from facebook, i am "friends" with one person from that experience. i want to write to him and ask him about it because i wonder if i am making some of this up. like if somehow bits of movies and stories and nightmares have all collided to form this memory that didn't really happen the way i think it did.
then i think sometimes its better just to remember your own hell house experience however you want.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
incisors
let's go back about thirty years. i have long blonde hair with chunky bangs and large glasses. i am shy but not shy enough to keep myself quiet. i have one older brother who torments me endlessly- it's his way of showing love, i'm sure- hence the chunky bangs which he cut for me. i have headaches most of the time.
i also have a smile full of smallish looking teeth that are firmly determined not to fall out and make way for the big ones. i will have my last baby teeth pulled from my head in middle school. stubborn is more than a disposition with me. and it isn't until dentists start to question my slow-to-go teeth that they realize something is missing from my mouth.
lateral incisors. both of them. these are the teeth right next to your front teeth- between them and your canine. my teeth had been evenly spaced and so no one noticed i didn't have these teeth. my dad promptly blamed my mom's side of the family.
what then happened was years of braces. years of them. i actually remember the orthodontist removing all of the hardware and then reinstalling it a week later- all for the sake of insurance coverage. the plan was simple- make space for where the incisors should be and then....well, go from there.
when i was 18ish, the go from there plan was two marilyn bridges. which means they take the perfectly normal teeth and dig out the back of them, glue some metal brace-like things behind them with a fake tooth in the middle. this is what we did. i remember the technology of implants- where they surgically place a rod into your jaw bone and then built a crown onto that was experimental and not covered by insurance. the life span of a marilyn bridge was about 10 years. whenever i say "marilyn bridge" i think of marilyn monroe. and then that elton john song starts in my head.
well, turns out the bridges lasted a bit longer. in 2001, when barely pregnant with seren, the bridge on the right side broke during thanksgiving diner at ben's mom's house. i remember i was eating this fancy pumpkin-stuffed filo triangles i had made. the tooth broke and i looked hideous. the fake tooth had just broken off from the metal bridge- so it just looked like i had a very rotten tooth right in the front of my mouth. i remember the smell of the glue as the dentist glued the tooth back on. it cost about $50 to have it fixed.
a few years later the entire bridge came out. strangely i do not remember this at all. i know i worked at the co-op because that halloween i dressed up as a rodeo clown- complete with pink wig and leather cowgirl hat. the missing tooth added to the ensemble.
when it came to replacing the tooth my options hadn't changed much. bridge or implant- neither were covered by insurance...still. uw dental school told me that in order to have an implant i'd have to be in braces for a few years first. there was some new technology in the world of bridges- which means an all porcelain bridge could be made. which is good because metal conducts. with so much metal in my mouth it was uncomfortable to drink really hot or really cold beverages. plus i could sometimes hear radio signals if i wore cold necklaces.
turns out the bridge was spendy. like...you could buy a good used car or travel comfortably through europe or live for several years in many third world countries. fortunately, my dad paid for it.
there's a bit of irony here. my dad blamed my mom's family for the missing tooth- and yet he paid to have it cosmetically replaced. without the tooth- i looked....hillbilly-ish. (that's the stereotype we have of people who don't have teeth- and guess what? it's because dental care is expensive.) which is definitely from his side of the family. not to say that my mom doesn't have that somewhere- it's just far enough in the past where we don't know about it. my dad, however, grew up in rural ohio. he tells me about drowning the barn cats in the creek and watching the chickens eat the baby mice from the nest under the feeder bowl.
speaking of missing teeth. people react differently to you. few people will actually ask what happened- even if they see you on monday with a full set of teeth and on tuesday with one gone. i have found that usually it's children who will say with a horrified look on their faces "what happened to your tooth?!" and it's really hard to be honest in that moment. i admit- sometimes it just so entertaining to lie to children- another trait i picked up from my dad...and my mom, come to think of it...and so i often would tell them i got in a bar fight or the tooth fairy was desperate or i didn't brush my teeth. plus, what 7 year old wants to hear about my dental history?
kudos to you for sticking with this so far.
turns out- on friday- my left bridge gave away. came out as i was driving. no doubt on monday or tuesday the dentist will give me the same speech he did 5 years back. this time around i think i'll be toothless for a while longer, so i've begun to think about possible temporary teeth replacement options. beewax doesn't stick well to teeth, so i've been thinking about a fake tooth to wedge in there. seren did offer me a pomegrante seed this morning to try. he's been very supportive and in his honest-abe way. he admits that i look hideous but doesn't keep him from loving me.
i'm toying with carving a wedge out of bone, covering it gold and putting a diamond in the middle of it. i think i could carry that look well.
i also have a smile full of smallish looking teeth that are firmly determined not to fall out and make way for the big ones. i will have my last baby teeth pulled from my head in middle school. stubborn is more than a disposition with me. and it isn't until dentists start to question my slow-to-go teeth that they realize something is missing from my mouth.
lateral incisors. both of them. these are the teeth right next to your front teeth- between them and your canine. my teeth had been evenly spaced and so no one noticed i didn't have these teeth. my dad promptly blamed my mom's side of the family.
what then happened was years of braces. years of them. i actually remember the orthodontist removing all of the hardware and then reinstalling it a week later- all for the sake of insurance coverage. the plan was simple- make space for where the incisors should be and then....well, go from there.
when i was 18ish, the go from there plan was two marilyn bridges. which means they take the perfectly normal teeth and dig out the back of them, glue some metal brace-like things behind them with a fake tooth in the middle. this is what we did. i remember the technology of implants- where they surgically place a rod into your jaw bone and then built a crown onto that was experimental and not covered by insurance. the life span of a marilyn bridge was about 10 years. whenever i say "marilyn bridge" i think of marilyn monroe. and then that elton john song starts in my head.
well, turns out the bridges lasted a bit longer. in 2001, when barely pregnant with seren, the bridge on the right side broke during thanksgiving diner at ben's mom's house. i remember i was eating this fancy pumpkin-stuffed filo triangles i had made. the tooth broke and i looked hideous. the fake tooth had just broken off from the metal bridge- so it just looked like i had a very rotten tooth right in the front of my mouth. i remember the smell of the glue as the dentist glued the tooth back on. it cost about $50 to have it fixed.
a few years later the entire bridge came out. strangely i do not remember this at all. i know i worked at the co-op because that halloween i dressed up as a rodeo clown- complete with pink wig and leather cowgirl hat. the missing tooth added to the ensemble.
when it came to replacing the tooth my options hadn't changed much. bridge or implant- neither were covered by insurance...still. uw dental school told me that in order to have an implant i'd have to be in braces for a few years first. there was some new technology in the world of bridges- which means an all porcelain bridge could be made. which is good because metal conducts. with so much metal in my mouth it was uncomfortable to drink really hot or really cold beverages. plus i could sometimes hear radio signals if i wore cold necklaces.
turns out the bridge was spendy. like...you could buy a good used car or travel comfortably through europe or live for several years in many third world countries. fortunately, my dad paid for it.
there's a bit of irony here. my dad blamed my mom's family for the missing tooth- and yet he paid to have it cosmetically replaced. without the tooth- i looked....hillbilly-ish. (that's the stereotype we have of people who don't have teeth- and guess what? it's because dental care is expensive.) which is definitely from his side of the family. not to say that my mom doesn't have that somewhere- it's just far enough in the past where we don't know about it. my dad, however, grew up in rural ohio. he tells me about drowning the barn cats in the creek and watching the chickens eat the baby mice from the nest under the feeder bowl.
speaking of missing teeth. people react differently to you. few people will actually ask what happened- even if they see you on monday with a full set of teeth and on tuesday with one gone. i have found that usually it's children who will say with a horrified look on their faces "what happened to your tooth?!" and it's really hard to be honest in that moment. i admit- sometimes it just so entertaining to lie to children- another trait i picked up from my dad...and my mom, come to think of it...and so i often would tell them i got in a bar fight or the tooth fairy was desperate or i didn't brush my teeth. plus, what 7 year old wants to hear about my dental history?
kudos to you for sticking with this so far.
turns out- on friday- my left bridge gave away. came out as i was driving. no doubt on monday or tuesday the dentist will give me the same speech he did 5 years back. this time around i think i'll be toothless for a while longer, so i've begun to think about possible temporary teeth replacement options. beewax doesn't stick well to teeth, so i've been thinking about a fake tooth to wedge in there. seren did offer me a pomegrante seed this morning to try. he's been very supportive and in his honest-abe way. he admits that i look hideous but doesn't keep him from loving me.
i'm toying with carving a wedge out of bone, covering it gold and putting a diamond in the middle of it. i think i could carry that look well.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
disconnect
there are so many parts of technology that i adore. and some others that i abhor. and still others that i find perplexing, for example- is this computer a time saver or a brain drain?
i don't know. it gives and it takes away. sometimes i feel like it takes too much though.
life is stagnant inside this screen and there's that comfort here, but it pulls me away from the kaleidoscope of real life here under my nose. my boys growing up, the corn withering in the our garden, the geese flying by, the wrinkles deepening around my eyes.
at the same time, it feeds the part of me that fears too much isolation. the keyboard keeps up with my rapid thoughts in a way my journal and pen cannot. i can satisfy my curiosity of strange facts in mere seconds. i can pay bills late without feeling the gal on the is condescending to me.
over the years- especially as the boys get bigger- i have often imagined a life without internet and welcomed it. i miss being bored, i think. because out of boredom comes creativity and spontaneity. i used to listen to more music, do more stretching, draw, sew. ok, honestly, i probably don't do much of that because of my children and their natural desire to do whatever it is that i am doing. yoga with a 2 year old clawing up on your back is not so peaceful.
the internet is the easy escape. the simple solution. the quick fix. but it's not always so good for my family. for me? if i lived alone? sure, my eyes could grow square and my fingers become even more adept at typing and correcting typos. but for a group of people that should be connecting to each other- i'm not sure the internet does us any favors.
it's like eating a candy bar instead of a meal. over the long haul it's bound to screw up things a bit.
of course, sometimes a candy bar is a really great thing. like this blog for example. i've always wanted to write and to be read. maybe it's ego, maybe it's just human nature. we crave witnesses- one reason why facebook is so damn popular. we want others to see us in the hopes that they will understand us a bit more. and through that they may understand themselves a bit more too. for me, having an easy place to publish my random thoughts has been incredibly motivating and satisfying....like a snickers.
in any case, the time has come for my family to snip the cord of the internet. there's still free wi-fi all over the place here. and i can write and them go somewhere else to publish my blog or email my articles to the co-op. i know it will be one more step. who knows? maybe we'll be plugged back in before thanksgiving.
thanks for you support and encouragement with my writing. i'll keep at it.
i don't know. it gives and it takes away. sometimes i feel like it takes too much though.
life is stagnant inside this screen and there's that comfort here, but it pulls me away from the kaleidoscope of real life here under my nose. my boys growing up, the corn withering in the our garden, the geese flying by, the wrinkles deepening around my eyes.
at the same time, it feeds the part of me that fears too much isolation. the keyboard keeps up with my rapid thoughts in a way my journal and pen cannot. i can satisfy my curiosity of strange facts in mere seconds. i can pay bills late without feeling the gal on the is condescending to me.
over the years- especially as the boys get bigger- i have often imagined a life without internet and welcomed it. i miss being bored, i think. because out of boredom comes creativity and spontaneity. i used to listen to more music, do more stretching, draw, sew. ok, honestly, i probably don't do much of that because of my children and their natural desire to do whatever it is that i am doing. yoga with a 2 year old clawing up on your back is not so peaceful.
the internet is the easy escape. the simple solution. the quick fix. but it's not always so good for my family. for me? if i lived alone? sure, my eyes could grow square and my fingers become even more adept at typing and correcting typos. but for a group of people that should be connecting to each other- i'm not sure the internet does us any favors.
it's like eating a candy bar instead of a meal. over the long haul it's bound to screw up things a bit.
of course, sometimes a candy bar is a really great thing. like this blog for example. i've always wanted to write and to be read. maybe it's ego, maybe it's just human nature. we crave witnesses- one reason why facebook is so damn popular. we want others to see us in the hopes that they will understand us a bit more. and through that they may understand themselves a bit more too. for me, having an easy place to publish my random thoughts has been incredibly motivating and satisfying....like a snickers.
in any case, the time has come for my family to snip the cord of the internet. there's still free wi-fi all over the place here. and i can write and them go somewhere else to publish my blog or email my articles to the co-op. i know it will be one more step. who knows? maybe we'll be plugged back in before thanksgiving.
thanks for you support and encouragement with my writing. i'll keep at it.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
heartbreakers
one of the parts about being a mom i enjoy deeply- is watching my boys and wondering how their personalities are going to change, morph, grow, develop. i wonder what little quirks will fade away and which ones will take root, hold on, flesh out.
sometimes i watch them doing something they really are into- like how seren is focused on drawing right now- and i imagine him as doing this throughout his life. i'm curious about how his skills will improve, if he'll study it in school, if someday he'll have a drafting table in an office at his house where he draws comics or greeting cards or illustrations for food processor manuals.
or if one day he'll just stop drawing and take up some other hobby like raising guinea pigs.
i know, of course, that without a doubt some parts of their character will always be there. their sense of humor, for example. i' betting that farts will not be as funny to them as they mature. but then i still think farting is pretty funny so i could be wrong on that one.
i'm pretty sure that they'll always have relationships in their lives. of all sorts. some even.....sexual in nature!
the other day me and my boys were eating lunch in the co-op. as we sat seren had out his sketch book where he was drawing various weapons. yes, the universe finds this hysterically funny that i, a passivist with bad gun experiences, would be blessed with two warrior sons. no doubt, i pulled this fate to me like a magnet on steel. in any case, seren was drawing spears and bows and knives and other things that he knows the actual names of but i do not, when a young gal- about 3 and her mama and the baby sister come sit next to us. the 3 year old picked the table next to us because she saw kiddos and she was smart. sit by people you find interesting- this should be a rule, well, it is her rule. she sat next to seren.
she watched him draw. seren was kind of vague when she asked him what he was drawing, "some stuff." at this point cyrus grew tired of stagnation and went sprinting toward the mercantile department (but he was not the one who threw those balls all over the place, i swear....not this time anyway) so i took off after him. when i came back seren had gone to get a to-go box as i had suggested once i realized cy was headed toward pre-nap melt down, and this young gal was drawing in his sketch pad. she assured me that he had told her it was ok.
i noticed seren had shifted to drawing some faces he has been practicing in his cartooning class. as i wrestled cy around, shoveling soup into his round mouth, i chatted with the mom about how two kids is a totally different world- and why hadn't anyone warned us!- and about all the baby stuff at the co-op now, and where they lived, and all that sort of stuff. as i got ready to go i noticed seren scrawling on a scrap of paper and he asked me, "mom, what's our phone number?"
yes- he gave his phone number to this sweet 3 year old girl.
now i know he was just being his normal, friendly self- but i had this strange sensation like i was glimpsing into the future when he would actually know his own phone number, probably have his own damn phone! and be giving it to girls and/or boys all the time. it made me giddy to think about. and completely terrified too.
it's not the sex talk- ever since that day at the zoo when he said, "hey mom, look at those funny meer cats wrestling!" i have been upfront and honest with him about "mating" and the like. really that's just all chemistry. hormones and body fluids. you can teach safe sex and kids understand that. as a middle school teacher i sat through these classes all the time and answered strange questions from students without even blushing.
i think what the potential freaking out part is the heartache. the fact that realistically at some point in his life someone is going to want him more or less than he wants them to. and this will happen with cy too. when cyrus was just a few months old a gal stopped me and said, "oh- he's going to be a heartbreaker." i've heard this often of seren too. and i'm pretty sure they don't mean that tom petty is going to have a reunion tour when he is 78 and happen to recruit my boys for their rocking guitar skills.
no, they mean that my guys are handsome and that folks will fall for them and be rejected by my sweet children and will be crying about it and writing mean notes and talking thrash; wishing evil on them, to boot, just the way that you and i did to those mean people that rejected us in the locker bays during recess.
i believe in romance and i also believe that it takes a while to learn enough about ourselves to know how we need to live in this world. it seems that we have to figure out some parts of that before we glue our hips, or any other body part!, to another human. but we don't do that. we don't wait. or maybe you did. maybe you still do. but most of us don't. no. no. no. because that chemistry makes it all feel sooo good. remember young love!? admit it, if you had a bottle of that shit you'd be hitting it right now!
when it comes to love it's trial by error. we learn what we want and need by sometimes getting what we don't want and don't need. and running screaming room it. or dragging our sorry butts home with tail between legs.
like my first boyfriend. i should have never lurked on his facebook page. just resist the temptation to look up your first. i could have gone on believing that he was only in a downward slump during our short stint as boyfriend/girlfriend. sadly, his priorities in life have not shifted in the twenty years since we were together. and they aren't now, nor ever were, priorities like: 1. work to end hunger 2. decrease my carbon footprint 3. finish high school. ok, so maybe he did finish high school, eventually. at this point, i'd like to give you specific examples but honestly i am too embarrassed. i'm cringing.
i'm embarrassed because i remember the intensity of that swirly-eyed, tingling toes, fuzzy-headed feeling like he was my soul mate. together forever. always and forever. i'll always love you. and every other bad love song from the late 80s with some few classics from the 50s thrown in there. he was thee one. i was done- in my mind with all that dating stuff, whew! found him. at 14. yup.
obviously, in hind sight, that was not the case. but at the time you, or my mom, could not tell me- even hint at- the smallest possibility that we would not be blissfully happy together for the rest of our lives. i believe in him, in us, in the face of ridiculousness....until he found some other chic and didn't tell me about it so then i found someone else and then i knew for real- that guy, not the first guy, was my true soul mate. i was then 17.
so we know they've inherited some good decision making skills in any case.
how do i survive two heartbreakin' boys? and really, even though they are exceedingly handsome, there's no guarantee that they aren't going to be the ones with the broken hearts. at least once.
it reminds me of the first scar seren ever got. a small nick from my fingernail as i was carrying him. he didn't cry- the small crescent shape of blood rising on his perfect skin. his smooth skin grew crinkled just there in the smallest way that only i could, can still, see. i felt horrible- it had changed him. and life is going to keep doing that to them, to us.
heartbreak does that to us too. it changes us in this strange way that also makes us more of ourselves. reminds me of a song that says something like "the heart has no bones, so it can't break. the purpose of love is the pounding it takes."
so pound on strong hearts of young warrior sons! no matter what shape your heart takes- i will hold it inside of mine always and forever, for reals.
sometimes i watch them doing something they really are into- like how seren is focused on drawing right now- and i imagine him as doing this throughout his life. i'm curious about how his skills will improve, if he'll study it in school, if someday he'll have a drafting table in an office at his house where he draws comics or greeting cards or illustrations for food processor manuals.
or if one day he'll just stop drawing and take up some other hobby like raising guinea pigs.
i know, of course, that without a doubt some parts of their character will always be there. their sense of humor, for example. i' betting that farts will not be as funny to them as they mature. but then i still think farting is pretty funny so i could be wrong on that one.
i'm pretty sure that they'll always have relationships in their lives. of all sorts. some even.....sexual in nature!
the other day me and my boys were eating lunch in the co-op. as we sat seren had out his sketch book where he was drawing various weapons. yes, the universe finds this hysterically funny that i, a passivist with bad gun experiences, would be blessed with two warrior sons. no doubt, i pulled this fate to me like a magnet on steel. in any case, seren was drawing spears and bows and knives and other things that he knows the actual names of but i do not, when a young gal- about 3 and her mama and the baby sister come sit next to us. the 3 year old picked the table next to us because she saw kiddos and she was smart. sit by people you find interesting- this should be a rule, well, it is her rule. she sat next to seren.
she watched him draw. seren was kind of vague when she asked him what he was drawing, "some stuff." at this point cyrus grew tired of stagnation and went sprinting toward the mercantile department (but he was not the one who threw those balls all over the place, i swear....not this time anyway) so i took off after him. when i came back seren had gone to get a to-go box as i had suggested once i realized cy was headed toward pre-nap melt down, and this young gal was drawing in his sketch pad. she assured me that he had told her it was ok.
i noticed seren had shifted to drawing some faces he has been practicing in his cartooning class. as i wrestled cy around, shoveling soup into his round mouth, i chatted with the mom about how two kids is a totally different world- and why hadn't anyone warned us!- and about all the baby stuff at the co-op now, and where they lived, and all that sort of stuff. as i got ready to go i noticed seren scrawling on a scrap of paper and he asked me, "mom, what's our phone number?"
yes- he gave his phone number to this sweet 3 year old girl.
now i know he was just being his normal, friendly self- but i had this strange sensation like i was glimpsing into the future when he would actually know his own phone number, probably have his own damn phone! and be giving it to girls and/or boys all the time. it made me giddy to think about. and completely terrified too.
it's not the sex talk- ever since that day at the zoo when he said, "hey mom, look at those funny meer cats wrestling!" i have been upfront and honest with him about "mating" and the like. really that's just all chemistry. hormones and body fluids. you can teach safe sex and kids understand that. as a middle school teacher i sat through these classes all the time and answered strange questions from students without even blushing.
i think what the potential freaking out part is the heartache. the fact that realistically at some point in his life someone is going to want him more or less than he wants them to. and this will happen with cy too. when cyrus was just a few months old a gal stopped me and said, "oh- he's going to be a heartbreaker." i've heard this often of seren too. and i'm pretty sure they don't mean that tom petty is going to have a reunion tour when he is 78 and happen to recruit my boys for their rocking guitar skills.
no, they mean that my guys are handsome and that folks will fall for them and be rejected by my sweet children and will be crying about it and writing mean notes and talking thrash; wishing evil on them, to boot, just the way that you and i did to those mean people that rejected us in the locker bays during recess.
i believe in romance and i also believe that it takes a while to learn enough about ourselves to know how we need to live in this world. it seems that we have to figure out some parts of that before we glue our hips, or any other body part!, to another human. but we don't do that. we don't wait. or maybe you did. maybe you still do. but most of us don't. no. no. no. because that chemistry makes it all feel sooo good. remember young love!? admit it, if you had a bottle of that shit you'd be hitting it right now!
when it comes to love it's trial by error. we learn what we want and need by sometimes getting what we don't want and don't need. and running screaming room it. or dragging our sorry butts home with tail between legs.
like my first boyfriend. i should have never lurked on his facebook page. just resist the temptation to look up your first. i could have gone on believing that he was only in a downward slump during our short stint as boyfriend/girlfriend. sadly, his priorities in life have not shifted in the twenty years since we were together. and they aren't now, nor ever were, priorities like: 1. work to end hunger 2. decrease my carbon footprint 3. finish high school. ok, so maybe he did finish high school, eventually. at this point, i'd like to give you specific examples but honestly i am too embarrassed. i'm cringing.
i'm embarrassed because i remember the intensity of that swirly-eyed, tingling toes, fuzzy-headed feeling like he was my soul mate. together forever. always and forever. i'll always love you. and every other bad love song from the late 80s with some few classics from the 50s thrown in there. he was thee one. i was done- in my mind with all that dating stuff, whew! found him. at 14. yup.
obviously, in hind sight, that was not the case. but at the time you, or my mom, could not tell me- even hint at- the smallest possibility that we would not be blissfully happy together for the rest of our lives. i believe in him, in us, in the face of ridiculousness....until he found some other chic and didn't tell me about it so then i found someone else and then i knew for real- that guy, not the first guy, was my true soul mate. i was then 17.
so we know they've inherited some good decision making skills in any case.
how do i survive two heartbreakin' boys? and really, even though they are exceedingly handsome, there's no guarantee that they aren't going to be the ones with the broken hearts. at least once.
it reminds me of the first scar seren ever got. a small nick from my fingernail as i was carrying him. he didn't cry- the small crescent shape of blood rising on his perfect skin. his smooth skin grew crinkled just there in the smallest way that only i could, can still, see. i felt horrible- it had changed him. and life is going to keep doing that to them, to us.
heartbreak does that to us too. it changes us in this strange way that also makes us more of ourselves. reminds me of a song that says something like "the heart has no bones, so it can't break. the purpose of love is the pounding it takes."
so pound on strong hearts of young warrior sons! no matter what shape your heart takes- i will hold it inside of mine always and forever, for reals.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
warm belly
our bodies have memories our brains do not- this fact has always astounded me. my skin, my heart, my ears, my nose- all have recordings of events, of experiences that were either good or bad and they send me messages about these that i cannot always decipher. maybe it's the same for you. as a mom i think about this- that my children's bodies will have a reaction to things that their minds do not understand. somewhere in their cells small bursts of "danger!" will issue out warnings that their memory will have no way to comprehend. for me this happens when i am in a pool or a lake and i get water on my face, up my nose, trickling down the back of my throat. my heart starts to race, i take gulping breaths of air, i panic on a physical level even as my mind is saying gently "you are in water that is three feet deep- you are not in danger. just stand up."
for many years i attributed this reaction to memory i do have- i was about 8 years old in a pool at my dad's friend's house. i was alone in the cool water- laying on a floating raft when it flipped over. if i could have stood up it would have been fine- the pool wasn't that deep, but my ankle had gotten twisted in the ropes on the side of the raft so i couldn't stand up. one of his sons noticed this and rescued me- after i had swallowed some water and was fairly upset. this explained my anxiety about drowning, or so i thought.
one evening as i was having dinner with brother in vancouver we started chatting about our various quirks and different labels we could apply to them. he decided he was mildly psychotic and i confessed i probably could fit on the autistic spectrum somewhere. at some point i mentioned my swimming- i think at that time i was trying to actually learn how to swim- my fear of drowning had kept me from this- quite a feat for a girl who has almost always lived on the west coast. my brother, rather casually said, "well, that's because you almost drowned that time."
"yeah- at pete's house. i remember," i replied.
"no. you were like three. you fell into a swimming pool. when they pulled you out you were blue."
even as i write this- sitting here without so much as a glass of water near me- i can feel fear creep into me. i was completely shocked by this. my brother is almost four years older than me and his memory has always been fairly good. sure, there's a chance he is mis-remembering, attributing someone else's trauma to my life except that this instantly made sense to me. it explains the way my body tenses involuntarily when my feet stretch through water to reach bottom and cannot find it. it explains how when i am in water i feel emotionally incredibly alone and vulnerable even as i physically enjoy the relaxation of it. it explains how i know what drowning feels like without having any words for it at all.
it also explains my own struggle with teaching my kids to swim. maybe when my cells split into my sons' cells it carried some of that memory to them, or maybe they pick up on subtle cues- but both of my boys are cautious about water. as much as they love to be in, play in it- they don't take risks in the water. they don't fully trust it. i've never told them about my experience and i'm not pushing fear on them. i encourage them, tell them it's safe- but still they are hesitant.
we are enrolled in swimming lessons like so many families. the last lesson we went to cyrus was very fearful about being in the water- he has never reacted this way before. seren was bobbing about having a good time, even as he resisted getting his nose underwater, but cyrus was clinging and fussy. the instructor thought maybe he was cold- the water was a bit chilly- and she recommended putting a shirt on him. he calmed down a little bit but was still not at all at ease.
after the class the teacher showed me the little tank-style wet suit her two year-old daughter was wearing. it had velcro straps along the shoulders so it could "grow with them" and it kept their body temperature up while they were swimming. she said these cost about $35- and went on about how that was a good investment while i tried to envision spending $35 on any one piece of clothing, let alone on something that would worn maybe 2 hours a week. she assured me i wouldn't be able to find any second-hand. they were just a hot item.
i am fairly oblivious to much of the messages i get about what i "need" and what i "should" do. this has caused some struggles. but with this wet suit, it hit at a core spot in me: wanting desperately for my children not to fear what i fear. seren has already described to me his nightmares- the exact nightmares i had as a child- watching a tidal wave come at me and sweep away all i knew. so this wetsuit- if it could make cyrus more comfortable in the water- was maybe a good thing to buy.
of course, i set about trying to find one second-hand right away. i searched craigslist, posted on craigslist, called consignment stores, went to consignment stores. nada. then i hit up ebay. there were two in cy's size. one hot pink, one neon green. the pink sold for over $20 plus shipping- i never even bid on it. and then i watched and waited for the final minutes of the green wet suit auction which was several days away.
meanwhile, i fussed a bit about this other feeling i sometimes get. this frustrated feeling of not being able to afford things or experiences that i'd like to. coupled with this tormented feeling about how i choose not to work so that i can homeschool and not put my kids in daycare. most days i feel good about this. i'm ok with living hand to mouth voluntarily if it means giving my kids my time and attention. they pay me in ways more meaningful than dollars. but on other days i daydream about what my family could DO with another $40K a year. we could actually landscape our yard, we could build a shed, we could visit my aunts in upstate new york. we could bring our vehicles into the shop the first time they made a weird noise and have it checked out instead of just vacuuming it and turning up the radio. and i could buy a new wet suit for my kid instead of lurking on ebay hoping that the other bidders would be asleep during the final minutes of the bidding when i launched my bidding- which, i already decided would be no more than $15.
last night- i was suddenly struck with the need to go to goodwill. this happens to me. i can just see myself in the store and i know something is there waiting for me. sometimes i am wrong- i admit. sometimes i go and there's nothing but other people's junk. but sometimes i find amazing treasures. on a side note- you may live in a part of the country where thrift stores thrashy. that is not the case here. our thrift stores are organized like a department store and they get some high end stuff along with the strange assortment of dead people's items the families have rejected.
so i went to goodwill. i even brought both boys which is a form of torture for me. they cramp my shopping style. as i walked about i noticed lots of cool stuff, things i might like, things i might use- but i passed by them all. they weren't the item i was here for. yes, thrifting is a spiritual experience for me- trite as that sounds. i put requests into the universe and sometimes it delivers.
like last night, as i was looking at bike helmets for seren and i noticed this bright pink, spongy wetsuit? yeah, just like that. the exact wetsuit- in cyrus's size- for $6.99 waiting for me like the blessing it was. i could almost feel the giggling of spirits around me- like they were saying, "see, nancylee, you got enough to get your boys what they need cuz we are here to help you out. you need this to feel better about your boys swimming? then, here it is, girl." this morning the neon green old sold for more than $20 too- i slept right through it.
even though i can't remember much about what happened when i almost drowned- i obviously know that i did not drown. that something sparked, a thought flashed in the minds of people near me- and they pulled me out. that the air pushed water out of my lungs and has held me on this earth everyday since. that when i needed someone, something- it showed up just like that warm belly wet suit in the mount vernon goodwill.
i need to write that again: when i needed someone- they showed up.
for many years i attributed this reaction to memory i do have- i was about 8 years old in a pool at my dad's friend's house. i was alone in the cool water- laying on a floating raft when it flipped over. if i could have stood up it would have been fine- the pool wasn't that deep, but my ankle had gotten twisted in the ropes on the side of the raft so i couldn't stand up. one of his sons noticed this and rescued me- after i had swallowed some water and was fairly upset. this explained my anxiety about drowning, or so i thought.
one evening as i was having dinner with brother in vancouver we started chatting about our various quirks and different labels we could apply to them. he decided he was mildly psychotic and i confessed i probably could fit on the autistic spectrum somewhere. at some point i mentioned my swimming- i think at that time i was trying to actually learn how to swim- my fear of drowning had kept me from this- quite a feat for a girl who has almost always lived on the west coast. my brother, rather casually said, "well, that's because you almost drowned that time."
"yeah- at pete's house. i remember," i replied.
"no. you were like three. you fell into a swimming pool. when they pulled you out you were blue."
even as i write this- sitting here without so much as a glass of water near me- i can feel fear creep into me. i was completely shocked by this. my brother is almost four years older than me and his memory has always been fairly good. sure, there's a chance he is mis-remembering, attributing someone else's trauma to my life except that this instantly made sense to me. it explains the way my body tenses involuntarily when my feet stretch through water to reach bottom and cannot find it. it explains how when i am in water i feel emotionally incredibly alone and vulnerable even as i physically enjoy the relaxation of it. it explains how i know what drowning feels like without having any words for it at all.
it also explains my own struggle with teaching my kids to swim. maybe when my cells split into my sons' cells it carried some of that memory to them, or maybe they pick up on subtle cues- but both of my boys are cautious about water. as much as they love to be in, play in it- they don't take risks in the water. they don't fully trust it. i've never told them about my experience and i'm not pushing fear on them. i encourage them, tell them it's safe- but still they are hesitant.
we are enrolled in swimming lessons like so many families. the last lesson we went to cyrus was very fearful about being in the water- he has never reacted this way before. seren was bobbing about having a good time, even as he resisted getting his nose underwater, but cyrus was clinging and fussy. the instructor thought maybe he was cold- the water was a bit chilly- and she recommended putting a shirt on him. he calmed down a little bit but was still not at all at ease.
after the class the teacher showed me the little tank-style wet suit her two year-old daughter was wearing. it had velcro straps along the shoulders so it could "grow with them" and it kept their body temperature up while they were swimming. she said these cost about $35- and went on about how that was a good investment while i tried to envision spending $35 on any one piece of clothing, let alone on something that would worn maybe 2 hours a week. she assured me i wouldn't be able to find any second-hand. they were just a hot item.
i am fairly oblivious to much of the messages i get about what i "need" and what i "should" do. this has caused some struggles. but with this wet suit, it hit at a core spot in me: wanting desperately for my children not to fear what i fear. seren has already described to me his nightmares- the exact nightmares i had as a child- watching a tidal wave come at me and sweep away all i knew. so this wetsuit- if it could make cyrus more comfortable in the water- was maybe a good thing to buy.
of course, i set about trying to find one second-hand right away. i searched craigslist, posted on craigslist, called consignment stores, went to consignment stores. nada. then i hit up ebay. there were two in cy's size. one hot pink, one neon green. the pink sold for over $20 plus shipping- i never even bid on it. and then i watched and waited for the final minutes of the green wet suit auction which was several days away.
meanwhile, i fussed a bit about this other feeling i sometimes get. this frustrated feeling of not being able to afford things or experiences that i'd like to. coupled with this tormented feeling about how i choose not to work so that i can homeschool and not put my kids in daycare. most days i feel good about this. i'm ok with living hand to mouth voluntarily if it means giving my kids my time and attention. they pay me in ways more meaningful than dollars. but on other days i daydream about what my family could DO with another $40K a year. we could actually landscape our yard, we could build a shed, we could visit my aunts in upstate new york. we could bring our vehicles into the shop the first time they made a weird noise and have it checked out instead of just vacuuming it and turning up the radio. and i could buy a new wet suit for my kid instead of lurking on ebay hoping that the other bidders would be asleep during the final minutes of the bidding when i launched my bidding- which, i already decided would be no more than $15.
last night- i was suddenly struck with the need to go to goodwill. this happens to me. i can just see myself in the store and i know something is there waiting for me. sometimes i am wrong- i admit. sometimes i go and there's nothing but other people's junk. but sometimes i find amazing treasures. on a side note- you may live in a part of the country where thrift stores thrashy. that is not the case here. our thrift stores are organized like a department store and they get some high end stuff along with the strange assortment of dead people's items the families have rejected.
so i went to goodwill. i even brought both boys which is a form of torture for me. they cramp my shopping style. as i walked about i noticed lots of cool stuff, things i might like, things i might use- but i passed by them all. they weren't the item i was here for. yes, thrifting is a spiritual experience for me- trite as that sounds. i put requests into the universe and sometimes it delivers.
like last night, as i was looking at bike helmets for seren and i noticed this bright pink, spongy wetsuit? yeah, just like that. the exact wetsuit- in cyrus's size- for $6.99 waiting for me like the blessing it was. i could almost feel the giggling of spirits around me- like they were saying, "see, nancylee, you got enough to get your boys what they need cuz we are here to help you out. you need this to feel better about your boys swimming? then, here it is, girl." this morning the neon green old sold for more than $20 too- i slept right through it.
even though i can't remember much about what happened when i almost drowned- i obviously know that i did not drown. that something sparked, a thought flashed in the minds of people near me- and they pulled me out. that the air pushed water out of my lungs and has held me on this earth everyday since. that when i needed someone, something- it showed up just like that warm belly wet suit in the mount vernon goodwill.
i need to write that again: when i needed someone- they showed up.
Monday, October 18, 2010
bear
my second vehicle was an isuzu trooper. the first stick i ever drove. i learned this skill driving around my dad's house in gardena during christmas break. eventually the cops pulled me over because the neighbors were getting suspicious- "this truck just keeps circling the block!" even when i finally did master that art she was like an elephant that needed to be coaxed. yes, she had a name. basheba. she had the personality to fit it too.
now you could really road trip with her. you couldn't go very fast uphill, but you could pack everything you needed in it and stretch out to sleep. before my grandma dorothy passed away- after i graduated from college- me and my boyfriend decided to go to ohio and visit her. along the way we made many stops. and each stop had it's own adventure it seemed. and each adventure somehow thwarted our attempt to actually camp in the back country.
the black fly incident on one of the great lakes, maybe lake michigan, was hilarious. i still believe that some old timer watched us throw down our packs on that pristine sandy beach and then laughed himself sore as we tried to outrun those biting black flies. now i know what that old song means "i'll die with those flies picking my bones." we spent that night in the trooper.
just outside of glacier national park we were all geared up to hike in and camp out. that year the snow fall was heavy and even though it was summer the animals were farther down in elevation because of the snow pack not melting off quite enough for them. everywhere we went there were bear signs...not signs of bears, but signs warning us "this is bear country!" my boyfriend, being from alaska, was mostly nonchalant about this fact. me, being from torrance, was clueless.
what i remember most about this hike was the alpine meadows of wildflowers and butterflies. they rolled away from us to the snow covered peaks. the sky was that luscious blue and the sun was shining but not burning. there were tall trees and bushes here and there, so as you hiked along sometimes your sight was limited. as we rounded a corner we almost smacked into a bear snacking on some bush on the side of the trail. my boyfriend was in front of me, and i remember that as he started to try to scare the bear off- i grabbed his pack and started to pull him back down the trail all the while saying softly "don't eat us bear- we are leaving." we paused to look back and saw the bear standing up on his hind legs sniffing at us with a very large nose on the tip of a blondish head. finding us uninteresting, he rolled around on the trail some and then disappeared.
we weren't quite sure what to do at that point. he thought it was a brownish-black bear. i thought it was a juvenile grizzly. we decided to hike on while singing very loudly. i remember doing a lot of "second verse! same as the first!" because it's hard to thing or harmonize when you are singing because you think a bear is about. we got especially nervous when hiking through tall grass. we hiked down into a small valley and as we came up we crossed paths with two young men.
we were the first people they had seen since their bear incident.
they were our age- in their 20s with new coleman camping gear and doughy faces. they told us their story with the wide eyes of someone thirsty for an audience. they went out camping the night before- to the very site we were headed to, cooked dinner and then tree'd their goods which is what you have to do in bear country. i think they probably ate the stankiest meat product around, like a slim jim sloppy joe, and most likely slept in the clothes they had cooked and ate in. no doubt they didn't tree their stuff very well because they woke up to the sound of a bear ripping through their stuff. they huddled in their tent as the bear sauntered over and sniffed at them through the thin nylon. they said the full moon lit up the night so clearly that they could see the silhouette of the bear and as it sniffed at them the nylon stuck to its nose.
imagine that.
when it was quiet out again they peered out. seeing nothing, they snuck out. they told us they went to the bathroom. i think this meant they changed their shorts. having a bear that close could cause anyone to have a weak bladder. then the bear reappeared and charged them. they said they grabbed their tent and ran through the woods to the next camp site. in the morning they came back to gather their shredded goods. they still had that nervousness about them- that sense that they had scrapped through something they might not have otherwise.
we decided not to camp out that night either. on the way back we passed the guys telling their story to the next folks on the trail. and then they passed us as we ate lunch so we had to hear it again the next time we passed them. a gal who worked for the forest service told them "a fed bear is a dead bear" and was sad to know that someone was going to have to find that bear and kill it. she said once a bear figures out that human carry tasty treats they'll just keep at it. bears are all about the easy meal. she kind of glared at them as she said this. i don't think they realized that maybe they should have done something differently.
when we got down to the ranger station we looked at bear photos. i was sure it was a grizzly we had seen, my boyfriend wasn't so sure. i like to think it was the same bear those guys had fed- that he has wandered far away from that campsite. i like to think that he didn't really care for slim jims, turns out, and that berries were more to his liking.
now you could really road trip with her. you couldn't go very fast uphill, but you could pack everything you needed in it and stretch out to sleep. before my grandma dorothy passed away- after i graduated from college- me and my boyfriend decided to go to ohio and visit her. along the way we made many stops. and each stop had it's own adventure it seemed. and each adventure somehow thwarted our attempt to actually camp in the back country.
the black fly incident on one of the great lakes, maybe lake michigan, was hilarious. i still believe that some old timer watched us throw down our packs on that pristine sandy beach and then laughed himself sore as we tried to outrun those biting black flies. now i know what that old song means "i'll die with those flies picking my bones." we spent that night in the trooper.
just outside of glacier national park we were all geared up to hike in and camp out. that year the snow fall was heavy and even though it was summer the animals were farther down in elevation because of the snow pack not melting off quite enough for them. everywhere we went there were bear signs...not signs of bears, but signs warning us "this is bear country!" my boyfriend, being from alaska, was mostly nonchalant about this fact. me, being from torrance, was clueless.
what i remember most about this hike was the alpine meadows of wildflowers and butterflies. they rolled away from us to the snow covered peaks. the sky was that luscious blue and the sun was shining but not burning. there were tall trees and bushes here and there, so as you hiked along sometimes your sight was limited. as we rounded a corner we almost smacked into a bear snacking on some bush on the side of the trail. my boyfriend was in front of me, and i remember that as he started to try to scare the bear off- i grabbed his pack and started to pull him back down the trail all the while saying softly "don't eat us bear- we are leaving." we paused to look back and saw the bear standing up on his hind legs sniffing at us with a very large nose on the tip of a blondish head. finding us uninteresting, he rolled around on the trail some and then disappeared.
we weren't quite sure what to do at that point. he thought it was a brownish-black bear. i thought it was a juvenile grizzly. we decided to hike on while singing very loudly. i remember doing a lot of "second verse! same as the first!" because it's hard to thing or harmonize when you are singing because you think a bear is about. we got especially nervous when hiking through tall grass. we hiked down into a small valley and as we came up we crossed paths with two young men.
we were the first people they had seen since their bear incident.
they were our age- in their 20s with new coleman camping gear and doughy faces. they told us their story with the wide eyes of someone thirsty for an audience. they went out camping the night before- to the very site we were headed to, cooked dinner and then tree'd their goods which is what you have to do in bear country. i think they probably ate the stankiest meat product around, like a slim jim sloppy joe, and most likely slept in the clothes they had cooked and ate in. no doubt they didn't tree their stuff very well because they woke up to the sound of a bear ripping through their stuff. they huddled in their tent as the bear sauntered over and sniffed at them through the thin nylon. they said the full moon lit up the night so clearly that they could see the silhouette of the bear and as it sniffed at them the nylon stuck to its nose.
imagine that.
when it was quiet out again they peered out. seeing nothing, they snuck out. they told us they went to the bathroom. i think this meant they changed their shorts. having a bear that close could cause anyone to have a weak bladder. then the bear reappeared and charged them. they said they grabbed their tent and ran through the woods to the next camp site. in the morning they came back to gather their shredded goods. they still had that nervousness about them- that sense that they had scrapped through something they might not have otherwise.
we decided not to camp out that night either. on the way back we passed the guys telling their story to the next folks on the trail. and then they passed us as we ate lunch so we had to hear it again the next time we passed them. a gal who worked for the forest service told them "a fed bear is a dead bear" and was sad to know that someone was going to have to find that bear and kill it. she said once a bear figures out that human carry tasty treats they'll just keep at it. bears are all about the easy meal. she kind of glared at them as she said this. i don't think they realized that maybe they should have done something differently.
when we got down to the ranger station we looked at bear photos. i was sure it was a grizzly we had seen, my boyfriend wasn't so sure. i like to think it was the same bear those guys had fed- that he has wandered far away from that campsite. i like to think that he didn't really care for slim jims, turns out, and that berries were more to his liking.
dance
Ann came to the center, max's place, almost every friday and saturday night. i met ann when she was in her late thirties, i think. ann had down syndrome, so it was difficult to know her chronological age. her spirit though was vivid and boisterous. we often describe that as being "young." she had a short bob of blonde and gray hair with bright blue eyes that were magnified by thick glasses. her eyes darted back and forth, faster when she got excited.
ann was consistent in many things. she always had her nails painted. usually pink or purple. she wore jewelry with pride. she hated potluck dinners at the center- i share this feeling too. and she was always ecstatic to see me. and i her.
she would greet me with a smile and exclaim "nancy!" as she hugged me. then she would launch into a description of what she was most excited about in that moment. it was often something about her family. usually it was good news- sometimes not. ann lived with her sister and her family. there were children and cousins and friends about ann all the time it seemed.
when the center started to have karate classes, ann was the star student. she took it seriously and would show off her skills to anyone who asked. she always sang great old songs for karaoke even when she didn't know all the words. she liked to play solitaire. she always won and she would cheer for herself each time. and she loved to dance.
there's this magic thing that happens in bellingham once a month that most "normal" folks have no idea about. it's called a spin dance. maybe i've told you about the first time i went? it was halloween and i walked into an auditorium of over 200 people in costume, dancing and singing...all with some type of disability. it will always be one of my fondest memories of my life. i don't think i can do justice to explaining it right now- why it was life changing for me. you might have to go to one for yourself to understand it.
ann came to the dances dressed to the nines. she wore dresses and long necklaces. some folks came to visit, some for the cookies, ann came to dance. you could find her close to the stage surrounded by her friends. i would saddle up to her several times during the night to dance with her. when she noticed me she'd shout something i couldn't hear and i'd nod and smile. she often would proudly point out to me the man she was dancing with.
when ann died i was very sad about it. i had stopped working at the center for a while by then and i searched my memories for the last time i had seen her. it was at the valentine's spin dance. she was wearing a purple dress and introduced me to her boyfriend, who was maybe 20. i remember dancing next to her. i can still see her with her hands up in the air, shaking up the oxygen above her short body. her hips are bouncing side to side. her face is exploding in pure delight and joyful celebration. i deeply treasure this imagine of her.
there are things i don't do well in life. lessons i refuse to learn. traps i set for myself and then stumble into dumbfounded and then look for someone to blame. i can't seem to keep my house clean, can't seem to find things when i need them most... but i can dance.
i dance with abandon, with fierceness, with passion, with rage, with gentle sways and fitful stomps.
i dance until my body is broken and rebuilt.
i dance until my soul is jiggled loose from my ego's grip.
i dance until i moan, laugh, cry, breath.
i dance in my kitchen to make my baby stop fussing.
i dance in a steamy room full of old friends i have never met.
and when i die, hopefully many, many years from now- as an old woman, i want the imagine that my friends and family treasure of me to be one of dancing.
see me with my face uplifted toward the ceiling
that has given way to blue skies
arms stretched past the clouds
my smile drinking in the rainbows in every warm drop of rain
feet jumping and skittering to my heartbeat
and if you are sad, dance that for me
and know that i have danced that grief too
through dance i have found many treasures
i have played games with myself
i have won
i have cheered.
ann was consistent in many things. she always had her nails painted. usually pink or purple. she wore jewelry with pride. she hated potluck dinners at the center- i share this feeling too. and she was always ecstatic to see me. and i her.
she would greet me with a smile and exclaim "nancy!" as she hugged me. then she would launch into a description of what she was most excited about in that moment. it was often something about her family. usually it was good news- sometimes not. ann lived with her sister and her family. there were children and cousins and friends about ann all the time it seemed.
when the center started to have karate classes, ann was the star student. she took it seriously and would show off her skills to anyone who asked. she always sang great old songs for karaoke even when she didn't know all the words. she liked to play solitaire. she always won and she would cheer for herself each time. and she loved to dance.
there's this magic thing that happens in bellingham once a month that most "normal" folks have no idea about. it's called a spin dance. maybe i've told you about the first time i went? it was halloween and i walked into an auditorium of over 200 people in costume, dancing and singing...all with some type of disability. it will always be one of my fondest memories of my life. i don't think i can do justice to explaining it right now- why it was life changing for me. you might have to go to one for yourself to understand it.
ann came to the dances dressed to the nines. she wore dresses and long necklaces. some folks came to visit, some for the cookies, ann came to dance. you could find her close to the stage surrounded by her friends. i would saddle up to her several times during the night to dance with her. when she noticed me she'd shout something i couldn't hear and i'd nod and smile. she often would proudly point out to me the man she was dancing with.
when ann died i was very sad about it. i had stopped working at the center for a while by then and i searched my memories for the last time i had seen her. it was at the valentine's spin dance. she was wearing a purple dress and introduced me to her boyfriend, who was maybe 20. i remember dancing next to her. i can still see her with her hands up in the air, shaking up the oxygen above her short body. her hips are bouncing side to side. her face is exploding in pure delight and joyful celebration. i deeply treasure this imagine of her.
there are things i don't do well in life. lessons i refuse to learn. traps i set for myself and then stumble into dumbfounded and then look for someone to blame. i can't seem to keep my house clean, can't seem to find things when i need them most... but i can dance.
i dance with abandon, with fierceness, with passion, with rage, with gentle sways and fitful stomps.
i dance until my body is broken and rebuilt.
i dance until my soul is jiggled loose from my ego's grip.
i dance until i moan, laugh, cry, breath.
i dance in my kitchen to make my baby stop fussing.
i dance in a steamy room full of old friends i have never met.
and when i die, hopefully many, many years from now- as an old woman, i want the imagine that my friends and family treasure of me to be one of dancing.
see me with my face uplifted toward the ceiling
that has given way to blue skies
arms stretched past the clouds
my smile drinking in the rainbows in every warm drop of rain
feet jumping and skittering to my heartbeat
and if you are sad, dance that for me
and know that i have danced that grief too
through dance i have found many treasures
i have played games with myself
i have won
i have cheered.
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