Monday, April 16, 2012

Just Me

It will be just the kids and me for at least a month,
while Matt helps to open some new Party City stores in the Toronto area.

He will be gone 10 days, home for 4, gone another 10, etc.
And during the 4 days home will likely work at his own store at least part of the time.

I always really ramp up my expectations for times like these.
And I'm usually way more efficient, way more organized,
way ahead of the game, as if I'm trying to prove that I can do it all myself.

But I feel a little anxious this time, a little less ready.
A little bit lost.

I think the older I get, the more I feel like I'm forgetting something all the time.

I hope it's not anything important.


Sunday, April 08, 2012


I visited the Khan Academy online and read this quote by Descartes:

You just keep pushing. You just keep pushing.
I made every mistake that could be made.
But I just kept pushing.

I want to be like that.
If I can only figure out what it is I'm pushing.

Then I would be on a trajectory of purpose
instead of this series of starts.

I think I am like a pinball.

I start and bounce
on downward arcs,
east, west, north for a bit
then straight south.

Yet I hurtle down that spring-loaded corridor with a huge grin on my face
every single time,
because I believe I am headed out of that machine,
not just around the corner for a familiar jolting ride until I circle back.


Saturday, April 07, 2012

One More Hug

I had a dream last night - several dreams, all mixing together with extraordinary circumstances flowing into the story as if it were completely normal.
You know how it goes.

In this dream, in between the bizarre and the sudden changes of scenery,
was my grandma.

This made perfect sense in the dream, but still came as a wonderful surprise:
that I had another chance to see her.

Somehow I had the knowledge that my grandpa was taking care of her - or rather - that she was in his care. I found out that he was coming to town.

Apparently he was an important personage, and the pomp and pageantry was already beginning. Flags, robes, a stage, people filing onto it.

I knew that he had brought her along, and as I waited, I cried.

I cried so hard - harder than I ever had in the past, harder than on the day she died.

I guess in the dream I knew that she had died. Her coming back was like a gift -
a second chance - another opportunity - a bonus.

And as I sobbed, my cousin Carin was there, with her camera, and she was crying too.
Carin was going to get some extra time with grandma - more than me - and I said to her,
"Oh take some pictures - please take as many as you can!"

And then she arrived - with someone on either side of her.
My grandma was smiling, but small, with her hands curled inward - she was weak, but happy.

I ran to her, crying and laughing, and hugged her, wondering if she would be confused -
if she would know me.
She did know me, and she hugged me back and smiled, but lightly.

Everything about her was light, as if she were not completely flesh and blood, just barely there.

But she was there, and I hugged her, for real. She wasn't a ghost. I felt her.

One more time.