Some days I sit and wonder how I’m going to get anything done. How will I ever get the kids to the park when I can’t get myself dressed? The task of getting them dressed, finding socks, putting on snow pants, jackets, boots, mittens and hats seems too monumental and I can’t get off the edge of my bed or out of my bathrobe. The weight of lost dreams, an unknown future and unclear present, settles around me like cement and if I don’t drag my arms and legs through the motions it will harden and I will sit forever. The kids will have to go to the neighbors for help. Maybe my son will remember how to dial 911. When the ambulance comes I will sit, unable to move my mouth, my eyes pleading for them to recognize my cemented condition. Once the fantasy gets this far I’m distracted enough by the absurdity to grab for my pants and the battle’s already half won.
Outside and bundled, we troupe to the park and I am shocked anew by the stinging cold that greets my cheeks and lungs. I let them slide across the ice of the duck pond as long as I can stand it and when my toes start to go numb we head for what we now call home. I spend hours re-arranging two of the bedrooms, trying to transform them into comforting, uncluttered, welcoming spaces. This is what I can offer them right now. I drag a slightly mildewed mattress up from the basement for myself and set up a little desk in a corner with plants to my left and a window to my right. This is where I have taken to having my coffee in the morning, listening to NPR, and it doesn’t eradicate the sadness or loneliness, but it helps. It’s where I’m writing from now, yelling at the kids when they squawk too loudly in their play. Then they sneak in on tip-toes to whisper in my ear that they love me and offer me their small, wet lips that only a parent can enjoy kissing without worrying if that’s spit or boogers. I can tell today it is going to be nearly impossible to be present and thankful. Today I’m going to wait for the phone to ring and my heart will flutter around in my chest, an impatient, anxious tenant and my patience will wear thin before noon. Today my heart will weigh heavy as the cement that threatens to pinion me to the bed. But it’s all really controlled by perspective and I can’t help but think of those old adages of glass half full or half empty and making lemonade from lemons. As I clear off the window seat to neatly place some books, toys and a pillow for the kids, as I tape bright, colorful cards of various winter birds on the wall to cheerfully greet them when they awake so far from their familiar room, and papa and beloved kitties; I am squeezing those lemons and mixing in what sugar I can procure to distract them from the sourness of life. I fill their glasses first and sometimes there is enough to fill mine and sometimes, like today, it’s half empty.
2 comments:
Oh Sugar....you are so brave and strong.
Sweet Amelia, I am so proud of you, and as always, so impressed by your beautiful way of lacing the words that pour from your emotional heart. You have such a gift, and perhaps that explains why there is no shortage of drama in your life; drama provides you with ample material, even if it is not always a welcomed blessing. I recently told a friend, who hasn't met you yet, a bit about you and that you were a great aspiring actress, to which they naturally replied "Oh, cool, so what have you seen her in?"
Good question- nothing.
But I know the essence of you so well, as does anyone who takes the time to get to know you, that that is good enough for me (I would love to see you act, of course....). You are so loved, and cherished, even when you feel that that the pressure will crush you; it will not, because you are more than that, and you have so much more to do, and we're all waiting for the next entry! All my love, as always, Nisa
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