Sunday, September 26, 2010
About this new "stage" in my life.
Writing about it will help me absorb it and then move on but
the words are stuck in my brain.
I have faith that they will dribble out on their own in unexpected ways
and unexpected places.
But for now I will just share a quote from a movie.
I don't want to tell you then name of the movie because...well.....it's not a good movie.
It's not that it is a movie with sex or violence or nudity.
I can't recall any swearing.
It is just one of those movies that turns everything upside down but assures you it is right side up.
When I saw it in the theaters I was angry at the way they manipulated my feelings so that wrong seemed like right and right seemed like wrong.
When I saw it on the TV guide I muttered...
Oh THAT movie. I am not going to get suckered into watching that again.
And I planned on not watching it.
I am still not sure how I ended up watching it but there was something that the main character said that spoke to how I was feeling.
When a woman makes a choice to marry and have children.
In one way, her life begins
and in another way it stops.
You build a life of details and
you just stop and stay steady
So that your children can move and
When they leave they take your life and details with them.
You are expected to move on again,
but you don’t even remember what it was that moved you.
Because nobody has asked you in so long
Not even yourself.
I have felt a little like an untethered balloon.
It is a light and floaty feeling that I am not entirely comfortable with right now.
Don't get me wrong.
I love being a wife and mother.
It is what I chose and sacrificed for and
There is nothing that I would change or want to do different.
But I am at the place where I need to move on.
And I am asking myself,
What it is that moves me.....
And so the journey begins.
Monday, September 20, 2010
There is so much for me to blog about.
I have at least a dozen posts that are racing around my head like it's the Indy 500 up there.
So what did I do all day today?
Redecorated my blog.
Do you like it?
I call that....."polishing the silver"
One time I was going to have a dinner party at my house.
There was so much to do.
Grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, little favors to make, tables to set.
I wasn't sure how I was going to get it all done in time.
I realized that I wanted to use a sterling silver pitcher for the occasion that I had received as a gift from my favorite uncle and had never used.
I took it out of it's protective bag only to find out it was tarnished.
So I said I would just sit down for a few minutes to give it a lick and a promise...
(I didn't actual "lick" it, that is only an old saying that people who are over 80 might know)
I actually enjoyed sitting there doing such a simple task.
I rubbed...it shined.
I found some other pieces that were possible necessities for my party.
Then I just starting polishing any ole piece of silver.
It was just easier than all of the other tasks that were overwhelming to me.
Sometimes I get like that.
I get frozen with all that I want to accomplish and I work on a non-essential task like polishing the silver.
So instead of writing about;
my empty nest
my Utah vacation,
my tooth implant adventure,
my graveyard tour,
my moving my daughter in to her new home,
my nasty spill where I almost landed on a chihuahua,
my impending trip to Central America,
my reoccurring nightmares about a certain picture,
my bff's emergency appendectomy,
or just a sign I saw in a yard that caused me to think for DAYS..
I changed the way my blog looked.
I totally polished the silver.
I did however want to show you a picture where my peanut resides for the next school year as a token of good faith that I will stop polishing and WRITE!!
Just out of curiosity which one of those stories piqued your interest the most...
leave me a message and help me out a little here..
I am running out of silver.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I didn't start shaking until the plane was on the ground and I had walked away.
That is what I found odd about the whole experience.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
It started Sunday with already enough emotion.
It seemed to fill my throat and make me have an unpleasant choking feeling.
I had to say goodbye to my kids.
I had to leave my baby at college.
Having done it many times before I thought it would have been easier.
Maybe a little
But not enough to make a real difference.
Now standing in the newsstand at the airport I prepared to salve my hurt with a new book and a decadent snack.
After all I deserved it.
"38 people dead and more trapped in a bus in Guatemala"
The television which I had not even noticed reported.
As a mother I can tune out all unnecessary noise but the word Guatemala even whispered makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
(Let it go, I tell myself. There are hundreds of thousands of people in Guatemala. It doesn't mean that he is in a mudslide. Go get on the plane.)
I fought the urge to call someone and try and find out the details. I just paid for my stuff and headed for my gate. If there was bad news I reasoned I would need to hear it in Houston anyway. I would need to be with Todd.
(stop thinking...he is fine)
I found my seat and juggled all of my heavy carry-ons and put them in the over head bin. My seat mate looked up for a second and then looked away quickly, obviously not in the mood to be friends or engage in any conversational niceties.
(Good I don't feel like talking to her either)
The doors of the plane closed and I was instructed to turn off my cell phone. I didn't mind. If it at all interferes with the pilots instruments far be it from me to be a part of any trouble.
I settled in with my book in hand.
(Dang it! reading glasses!)
I unwedge my heavy bag from under the seat in front of me. My seat mate turned even further away towards the window.
My bag was like a dark black hole of the miscellaneous things I could not fit in my suitcase and I continued to rummage around feeling for the smooth hard case that held my glasses. I thought I heard my seatmate make a disgusted sound.
I pulled up something soft and square.
(Dang it! Lauren's wallet....with everything that she would need to survive...her drivers license, her money, her keys and most importantly her college ID that was also her meal ticket. How would she eat? Would she be searching frantically for it while I was in the air?)
We hadn't left the ground yet and so I took out my cell phone and turned it back on. I kept it hidden under the bottom of my shirt and flinched every time the flight attendant passed by making her final rounds. I worried that my seatmate would finally turn my way and catch me violating the safety rules and yell for the flight attendant.
(Yeah..she looks like the type)
I texted: FOUND YOUR WALLET IN MY PURSE. DON"T WORRY. WILL CALL IN DENVER.
I felt a little better but still wonder how it would all work out.
I notice the couple in front of me are sitting across from each other in the two aisle seats. I notice them mostly because he is a tall man and his seat tilts back farther than everyone else. I am wondering if his seat has been put in the upright and locked position like it is suppose to be and not almost in my lap. I am also annoyed that he has a gray mullet hairdo. The top is a traditional mens cu,t and is quite pretty, all silver and curly, but in the back it is long and in a ponytail that curls like a big gray slinky. It looks greasy and I am not excited at the prospects of staring at it for an hour.
(just mind your own business and stop worrying about peoples hair for Pete's sake)
I began to read my book.
The hour flight went pretty slowly with an occasional announcement from our friendly pilot. Something about the things we could see outside our windows and the beautiful clear skies and blah blah blah. His voice was mellow and comforting.
(Not that I want to lean any closer to seatmate to see any of the sights anyway)
His voice floats through the air again telling us that we would soon begin to make our descent into Denver in 15 minutes. I have taken a Dramamine and the effects are making me feel dream like. I close my eyes.
I realize that the plane is banking a lot.
I know this because this is the motion that makes me feel sick. The pilot seems to be circling Denver.
At the third time I am beginning to be angry and queasy.
The pilot speaks again.
"I need everyone to listen closely to what I am about to say"
His voice is no longer smooth and mellow. It has a slight edge. It reminds me of a parents voice when they are worried but don't want you to worry with them.
What he said becomes blurry because every time I would try to concentrate and understand a sentence he would be on to the next one.
"There are two sets of brakes on a plane and one of the sets is engaged"
"Now there are a few things that could happen. When we land the tires will probably pop and if they do there might be a fire"
(does he mean explode and not "pop")
"If there is a fire then you need to stay in your seat. The fire trucks are already on the runway prepared to put out the fires and you need to wait until the fire is out."
(does he want us to stay in a burning plane?)
"After the fire is out then we will most likely be using the emergency chute and you need to be prepared to know how to slide down them."
Everyone take out your emergency instruction card from the seat pocket in front of you."
(how can these cartoon drawings really prepare us for that? Do the flight attendants look scared? Does anyone else around me look scared?)"You may not take anything with you. You need to leave everything behind."
(Lauren's wallet!...I need to get it out. She needs that wallet.)
I realize that trying to unwedge my bag and get her wallet out will be noticed and I will be in trouble with the flight attendants. You don't want to tick off the people that will be helping you through an emergency.
The pilot continues to talk as I study my emergency materials and continue to scan the plane for anyone who looks scared.
We are given two choices of crash positions.
One where our heads are on our laps and our arms are tucked under our legs.
Even if I could get my head down that far I am not going to risk the chance that mullet man in the seat in front of me will not fly backwards and snap my neck in two.
(Oh my goodness we are going to be in an impact situation and I am trying to figure out how not to be paralyzed)
I chose the seemingly safer option of crossing my arms over my wrists and tucking my chin down on my chest.
I notice that the mullet man and his wife are holding hands across the aisle of the plane.
(This is like one of those bad made for TV movies about a fiery plane crash.)
My seatmate for the first time looks at me and finally speaks. I realize that it is the first time I have seen her face and that it could be the last face I see.
She says, "What do you think is going to happen?"
"I don't know", I reply.
The flight attendants are holding up the cockpit phone between their heads to hear what last instructions from the pilot are. I continue to look for the expressions on their faces to determine how bad this could be.
They direct two burly guys in the front to the emergency doors to go over how to operate them.
They check each passengers seat belt to make sure that it is securely and properly fastened.
They go to the two women who have small babies on board to instruct them on how to hold their babies in crash position to try and best protect them.
(Babies....my kids......not babies, but they still need me. Lauren in her first week of college....Megan starting out her career as a teacher after a year and a half of searching...Jack finishing his mission in Guatemala in just three short weeks.....then Todd...my partner...my best friend waiting in Houston for me to try and adjust to the new chapter in our lives....our empty nest. Everyone of them making a major transition in their life. No this can't happen. This is not the time for this to happen.......
We are instructed to get in crash position. We are not near the ground and it looks like it will be awhile, but we are all are compliant. The plane is strangely quiet and I keep waiting for someone to panic.
I turn my head to my seatmate and ask her to please tell me when she can see that we are almost on the ground.She smiles and says she will
But as I start asking for help and speaking about each of my family members, the tears start to well up in my eyes.
(I need to stop. He knows what I need. I feel a prompting that I have already received an assurance that all will be well. There has already been a calming presence in that plane. Just focus on what you are told.)My seatmate says in a most gentle whisper.
"I see the ground. We are almost on the ground."
I brace my body against the seat in front of me.
The pilot tilts the wings to the side and I can tell that one side of the plane is on the ground.
I close my eyes waiting for the pop.
Both sets of wheels land on the runway and
the plane comes to a stop.
We are safe.
Grateful happy applause.
We all smile as the firetrucks escort the plane to a safe place to deboard. There are official looking employees waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking both nervous and relieved. I take out my phone and look back to snap a picture.
That is when I noticed my hands are shaking.