learning to see: part 1
I wake up attached to my plan this morning. The ocean is pulling, pulling so hard, it's all I can do to finish the last third of this hybrid article and get out of the city. I am going to the coast. The weeks I was MIA from this space are a blur of deadlines and birthdays and posts that never got written. Amelia turned five. Scott turned 37. All of it turned into too much time as a foursome. But there, in the middle of everything, with one deep breath, two steps back, three minutes of clarity I take a turn toward myself. I take a 10-day leave from work to coincide with spring break and the in-laws' visit, when I can punch the clock, off duty. (I take advice!) It may be brief, but it's something. I am finding rest. Last time I had a day to do nothing was a January snow storm, before that October, September? I don't even know. All I know is the force of the tide carrying me west to the end of the continent, to wide, wide space.That, this hybrid story (days past deadline) and the steeping tea in my red LOVE mug.
The phone rings too early for anything good to come of answering it. Caller ID shows my mother-in-law(I guess I still call her that becuase what else do I to call her?) and I relax. She probably wants to double check directions to Amelia's school, right? Wrong. Amelia is coughing and puking at the breakfast table, crying in the background. "I just want to go home. I just want my Mommy." FUCK. I just want to run.
It's right there in front of me, tumbling in on itself. My plan sucked down in the undertow.
"Mommy. I just want youuuuuuuu. I just want to come home. I want youuuuuuuuuu. I want my mommy," hoarse, pathetic words. Plees, rasped out desperately small between coughs. "I just want my mommy."
I don't want to be a mommy anymore. Not now anyway. It's not even my day. The quick flow of my hybrid story stops. Lay my head across the laptop - keys pressing into my forehead, feet on the floor, elbows on the table, so my face makes this: "gtyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" on the screen. What kind of horrible mother doesn't let her sick five-year-old come home? What kind of selfish bitch says "sorry baby, I'm going to the beach?" Me. This child is with her Grammy and I've been trying since November to get myself to the water. If I sacrifice my unpaid leave, this time salvaged to keep my head from splintering into a million jagged pieces, nobody wins. Nobody.
I'm going.
to
be
continued
(today. i swear. this will have an ending. panicked a little when i saw jess linked to this story, but i hadn't posted yet - so this is the preface. story to be posted later today. REALLY. not sleeping until it's up. wait. not sleeping? that kind of defeats the purpose of resting. ok, so - up soon. with sleep.)
posted by holly at 9:16 PM
6 Comments:
Picture me doing a happy dance in celebration of your decision to love yourself first! I've missed you here and am so happy to have you back. Cannon Beach is a sacred place - I can't tell you how often I've found renewed life there. Looking forward to reading what you discover. So proud of you! Love.
Tell us the rest!! I am dying to know what happens! OK, I already know, but I don't know what you're going to say about it and the suspense is killing me, truly . So get on it.
Big big love. Thank you for this day.
You are not a selfish mother, Holly! You left your children with someone you trust to take care of them and you are teaching them (BY EXAMPLE) that you love yourself enough to take this time away to do something you need to do. They won't understand it yet, but keep giving them examples and they won't expect themselves to be Superwomen who deny themselves when they grow up. Rest. We'll wait for the second half of the story as long as it takes.
Love.
Seeing your post is like getting back to a favorite cafe. But because it's a favorite, it's ok that sometimes the sign is up for: Remodeling, or Gone Fishin - Be Back Soon. Good to see you tapping into your own impulses, that means they are strong enough for you to feel. Good to get to the big water and out for a longer drive. I look forward to many of those.
THRILLED to hear you stuck to the plan. What kind of mother does that?
The kind who wants to be present for her children. The kind who's wise enough to know her limits. The smart kind.
Can't wait to hear more. And more. And more.
I cannot even believe Amelia started puking on YOUR day - oh, wait, I CAN believe it! It's the Universe saying, "Really? You REALLY need time to yourself?" Thank God you got the right answer! "YES! I REALLY DO!" Now the Universe can shut up and leave you alone for awhile. You passed the test.
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