Dusting

I've been hiding.  Hiding from what, I am not sure, but it has caused me to not write here.  Tomorrow morning I will rise at 3 am and drive with Husby to his Mom's; who in turn will drive us to the airport, to fly to the desert.   In the rain.

We must finish packing, loading and moving Dad's valuables (and all my crap) out of his house and bring it home with us.  It will be raining.  It will be windy, and we will be in a 17' U-Haul going over the Grapevine, to come home sometime in the following 48 hours.  There is nothing about this trip that has me enthused, save for staying with dear family friends who cook very well.   Though I have a feeling we will just order pizza, to save time.

I don't want to say goodbye to his home.  I don't want to box away memories.  I don't want to forget anything.  I don't want the responsibility.  I don't want the ache that is in my chest that twists and twangs every time I think about it.

I don't like feeling rushed, and that is all I feel.  Rushed and pressured.  And my coffee table is dusty and has Chloe fur floating across it's lower shelf.  (Now I must dust.  Because I do not want to pack.  Because that will make tomorrow's trip that much more of a reality.  And I would rather hide.  Or dust.)

I don't want to call him from his desk in the nook and ask him if the green paper is more imporant than the white, and what should I do with it.  I don't want to go through his belongings with a fine-toothed comb.  There are mysteries and secrets, hidden away in dresser drawers and tucked up on shelves that I don't want to discover.  Sometimes I hate being a Virgo.

I have laundry to switch over, and I need to warm my feet.  Perhaps I need a cup of tea.  Then I can pack and scour and clean and dust and vacuum.  I want to come home to a refuge- not refuse.  I want to come home.  And I am already here, yet all I can think about is how I will not be, tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will be there- which was home, but no longer is.  And sometimes, this doesn't feel much like home, either.  I am lost and homeless and will soon be orphaned, and I would like to hide now- in the comfort of chores and cleaning and domestic distractions of a finite nature.  Maybe Husby needs shirts ironed.  

Emergence

Plates shift, faults crack; the riff-raff hide under the overpass and pray to gods by the names they know.   Someone laughs.  Worlds collide.  Stars shine and cease and it's aeons before anyone even notices.  A whimper escapes the lips of the birthing and the dying and the angels can no longer differentiate.  And I am in a waiting tank.  Stifle, pause- for wings to dry.  In the in-between I pray not to be swallowed whole.  Pray for just long enough to make a difference.  Or a wave.  A flutter.  Billions pass hands and the burying begins.  But you can't resurrect the past- no, not like that.  No foundation, just rubble and rumble and tumbling down stairs you thought rose all the way to Heaven.  So I unfurl and start my ascent- too distracted by a nectar scent to really make head-way. With nothing left to do, I pray.

Happy Liberation Day

Today, nine years ago, my Mom passed on.  Usually the week or so leading up to this anniversary finds me fraught with grief and overrun by unnamable emotions.  (Okay, not so unnamable: fear, resentment, frustration, grief, anger, guilt....)  This year has found me quietly introspective.  Perhaps there is too much "living in the moment" for me to get wrapped up in "living in the past".  I think I'm growing up.  Or I'm just very distracted.

Dad is still sick.  It's difficult, sometimes to remember he's dying, when he's having one of his better days- then a moment arises when he's not feeling up to snuff, and Reality comes crashing about.  Our views of the world are so... filtered.  I wake up on the right side of the bed and I see everything with the rosiest of tints.  I go to bed too late, or eat too late, or get a kink in my neck from trying to accommodate Chloe's sleeping preferences and I feel as though Armageddon is just around the bend.  Funny, isn't it?  So easily influenced by outer factors.  I'd like to believe I'm more grounded and centered than that.  But I know better than to believe everything I think- so I sway.  I sway with the tidal rhythms and pulls of my life and I ride that proverbial wave, and try to not swallow too much water.  Sputtering is so not sexy.

I don't miss my Mom like I used to.  I was asked last night if it was getting any easier, her being gone- and it's not.  Not by a long shot.  But I don't miss her the same way.  I've learned to accept her new "form"... really, formlessness.  And am embracing it.  I recognize her in everything.  Certain scents that waft through the air, the way a plush fabric feels under my fingertips, quirky comments made by random people.  I do miss her hugs, and napping with her.  Mom always appreciated a good nap.  I keep trying to explain to Husby that it is something genetically passed down from her, and to simply embrace the necessity of napping.  He's not buying it- but that's simply because he never got to meet her.  Otherwise I'm confident he'd understand.  I miss her advice (which I never followed, but that is irrelevant, and part of why I miss it).  I miss her voice, which sometimes I can hear when I'm being very still- but it's not the same.  

Emptiness and Form.  One and the same.  Our particles buzz about with far more space in between than naught; and yet all we ever cling to is the Form.  Silliness.  Silly unenlightened people.  So wrapped up in what's in front of us, we forget what's really going on.  When I look at it that way, I feel almost selfish for grasping so firmly to the memory of Mom's form.  She was so much more than the sum of her poorly assembled parts.  So much more than they could have ever amounted to- and how wonderful it must be for her to have been liberated from the bonds of illness, pain and suffering.  And yet, all I've wanted for years now, is to "see" her.  I think something just clicked.

Happy Liberation Day, Mom.  I love you.

A La La Ho!

Today was a day unlike any other... an earthquake-morning (which I was unaware of)... some playtime with the pup at our favorite beach,  my first birth as a doula (which I missed the delivery for, but still was able to do some post-partum work and loved every moment of it) and an evening of Reiki with an amazing master!  I've learned so much in the past 10 hours I feel like I might burst at the seams- which means I need to meditate and practice soon, but first I'd love to divulge more about my experiences.

I was just getting on the road to visit Dad when I received a text saying "I'm at the hospital NOW"... I immediately turned around and raced home to change and ask Husby to wrangle some food for me to inhale on my way over the hill.  The text came at 12:11 this afternoon.  I was outside the delivery room at 12:55.  Natasha was born at 12:52... three minutes before I arrived and was waylaid at the nurse's station.  It was a bit anti-climactic, but I was in complete awe of the beauty of a five minute old baby.

I watched her turn from the soft color of a pale rose to a shimmering, soft, vibrant peach.  I watched her face soften and decompress and take on the features of her mother and father.  Her deep blue eyes open and take in the world around her for the first time.  Watch her fall in love with her mother's face and clearly recognize her father's voice.  She was the quietest, most serene being I'd ever witnessed and I felt the gentlest form of humility being in her presence.  Her mom asked me if she seemed okay when the nurses bustled out... if her silence was a sign of something problematic;  it was obvious that was not the case: it was a sign of her gentle, compassionate birth.  Her mom (from what I heard and what I know of her) did an amazing job at staying calm and present and loving throughout her very rapid labor.  And the placid look that Natasha maintained was evidence of that.  She barely fussed when put through the gauntlet of pokings and proddings- simply waited patiently to be reunited with her mama.  I loved holding all 9 pounds 4 ounces of her!  Introducing myself, keeping her snuggled when mom had to be monitored or used the restroom, or needed a mini-break.  Taking all the pictures I could to document the mini-miracle.  It was heaven for me, and I knew I had found my calling.  I stayed with the new family for about four hours- as long as the mom wished, and offered advice when I was asked and shared in the joy and wonderment of her new life.  Although I missed Natasha's actual birthing, I feel as though I was truly present for the celebration of her Birth Day and will always cherish those memories.  Assisting and guiding through such transitional phases is deeply rewarding to me... I thrive and relish the experiences, and feel deeply blessed.

Driving home I felt compelled to stop at my favorite Santa Cruz witchy-shop to see what was "new" and just enjoy how juicy it always feels in there- maybe I just wasn't quite ready to "come down" and back to reality.  While there I met an amazing woman who was offering a weekly Reiki-Share, which she invited me to sit in on, if I felt so inclined. (Which I did!)  At first no one else showed up, so if was just she and I- touching palms, enjoying the flow, as it were.  We both felt intimately connected to one another and shared so much about ourselves in a few brief moments. And did I mention this amazing Reiki Master is also a doula???  Kismet. I received much confirmation regarding the events of my life this past week and the direction my path seems to be leading me... and it was such a restorative and rejuvenating experience after what turned out to be an adventurous and life-altering day...A La La Ho!

Reality

Is it wrong to dread visiting someone?

Dad has started his journey towards death, and it is harder and harder for me to bear each day.  I am hesitant to go and see "where he is at" today.  This morning he sounded feeble.  Only a few days ago it was hard to believe that he had lost his appetite- he sounded so vibrant.  The hollowness in his voice is unmistakable.  He is tired and ready.  I just pray that his journey is swift and as painless as possible.  For his being and wellness of course... and for mine too.  I can feel each of his aches, pangs, cramps and nausea.  I'm exhausted and vulnerable.

So, I'm finished procrastinating- time to face reality head-on.

Shenanigans

New Year's Eve is always an anomaly.  I always find myself with people I'd never expect to be with in what appears to be some altered form of reality.  Hailing 2010 was no different.  Husby's Bestest arrived around 8 to be my date for the night, as Husby had to not only work, but close for the night.  Last one out.  Who knows when.  And I must say- I'd love to have a talk with this "Who".

Dinner was the plan, but after driving from one closed restaurant to the next packed one, Bestest and I quickly realized that was no longer in the plan and headed towards Husby.  Parking was surprisingly misleadingly easy and the wait for the cable car was surprisingly expectedly long.  The place was packed by 8:30 and no seats were to be had... I flexed what little power I had, and quite feebly at that, with "I'm Husby's wife- could you page him please?"  He arrived at the hostess' podium promptly to laugh at me.  Rude.  And called for.  Once he was finished laughing, he said he'd be right back- to see what he could do.    "Okay, one of our receptionists is with a friend, and she said you two could sit with them.  They've been here a while- can't imagine they'll be staying much longer.  She's wearing a white hat."  My retort was not a polite "thanks" but instead: "What was she supposed to say? No, boss, I don't want to sit with nor spend New Year's with your kooky wife?"  He laughed and walked away.  So we walked to White Hat, who will be from this point referred to as "Detroit" and introduced ourselves.  Detroit and her friend, who had just moved that day from Michigan, will be "Midwest".    Detroit and Midwest were just polishing off what Bestest and I thought was their first bottle of wine.  What's that saying about assumptions?  Hmm.

Detroit was energetic, extroverted and inebriated.  Midwest was not.  Okay, she was drunk too- but a quiet, shy drunk.  Midwest spent most of the night quietly whispering to me that Detroit really was a very great gal.  Detroit spent most of the evening putting her foot in her mouth in an effort to disprove Midwest:

You look really great for a 31 year old! (Thanks?  I hope the same can be said when I actually turn 31.)

Oh- you must be pregnant.  You have that look.  (What look?  Pleasantly plump? On top of old? Really? Is shiny being mistaken for glowing?  Do I need to powder my nose?)


All in the first 22 minutes of sitting down, which translates to: not even 9pm yet.  When is midnight again?  Can someone move the clocks forward?  Please?  Seriously.  Please?


You and Husby are total stony-pot-smokers, huh?  (This was prompted because I knew the words to "Puff the Magic Dragon" which was being sung by the live musician on stage.)  That's so cute! Don't worry- I won't tell any of the other employees, Husby is so great to work for!  Really nice.  He lets me go to the bathroom and watches the phones for me.  None of the other managers do that.  (Why?  Why?  Why?)  Cuz ya know- you and I, we could always, you know, when I'm not working and stuff.  It'd be fun!  (Do what?  Why? Why?  Why?)

So, does Husby do coke?  Cuz someone asked me that the other day, and I said "oh no.  He's just an energetic sort.  Like me.  I'm energetic naturally, ya know."  I mean could you imagine me on coke?  I'd be CAH-razy!  I don't think he believed me though.  But I thought I'd ask anyways, cuz you never know.  (Wait.  Excuse me.  Did you just ask me if MY husband, your boss is a coke-head?  NO.  No he is NOT a coke head and we do not smoke pot.  Sheesh.  How did this conversation start?  That's it.  No more song lyrics for me.  I am never going to Michigan.)

So, Bestest.  Let's play a game.  Lets have ALL the 25-34 year olds, the single ones, here.  But no bums or creepers.  (Even this warranted a "huh?" from Midwest, which was somehow comforting.)  You're single, right, Bestest?  (This was a veiled attempt at finding out if Detroit had any chance under the Big Ball Drop to "hook up" with Bestest.  Which, she didn't have, but it was kinda cute to watch.)

*****                                                                                                                  

I just realized I could go on and on and on and....  so I will stop.  Needless to say, the questions became more inappropriate, more ludicrous, more hilarious, and in regards to Bestest, more desperate; as the empty bottles crowded our small four-top.

Bestest was throwing back his Captain n' diets with ease and I was throwing back my water: ice, stirred, also with great ease.  Husby would occasionally whoosh by with a kiss for the top of my head.  And the clock was finally beginning to creep towards midnight.  We were (the entire bar) laughing, singing, drinking and many were dancing.  I was not.  I prefer to sing loudly and off key.  Bestest was not, he preferred to watch Detroit scowl at him as she danced with other men.  Midwest was not, she preferred to try to sleep on the cocktail table.  And Husby was very, very busy.

11:48pm.  Everyone was in plastic top hats or tiaras, noise-makers in one hand, champagne in the other.  Bestest was texting Husby with profanities for not being by my side... just as Husby pushed his way through the crowd and wrapped his arms around me.

Midnight.

Everything was worth it.  All the shenanigans.

Bestest and I stayed past all the other celebrants- to sit for a moment with Husby in his empty bar.  With payroll and closing paperwork to contend with, we headed home and promised to wait for Husby to come home.  ETA: 2:30am.  I put on jammies and snuggled with a sleepy pupalupagus.  Bestest switched to beer.  2:30 flew by.  As did 3:30.  Just shy of 4am Husby came home, to an exhausted, but still awake wife and Bestest.  We yawned.  He poured drinks.  I silently shook my head and crawled into bed with a staggering pup.  I do not know what they did.  Though this morning there were empty glasses on the table.  I do know I drifted in and out of sleep with Husby's arms around me, and the promise of a New Year was granted  As was a sleep-in.