Another hot one out there. Welcome to Fairfax. Last night I saw a picture of a deer try to find smatterings of living grass on our now dead lawn, at a home we no longer live in.The drought has made it impossible to keep things alive that are not indigenous, and somethings that are. California seems to drying up before our eyes, leaving me with a feeling of foreboding. I want to move north, find green, find life.
As I lumbered up the stairs with my heavy load of groceries, a computer safely tucked under my arm and my purse flapping from my shoulder, I had this thought and I can no longer think of it. I had thought to write it down the moment my arms were free, but as I came in the door, I was side tracked by question about what I had purchased. What were my needs for the car my teenage daughter asked anxiously. It’s so easy to lose thoughts when you are distracted by everyday life. I think I was thinking about the everyday things and how they weave together to create a life. Patchwork pieces, some eye popping, some drab, all balancing everything out. Daily I am aware of my body and it’s limitations. Of my inability to keep up with my teen age daughter and oh how I wish I had let her take the car, or not take the car, depending on the situation.My body lumbers on slowly with the led weights of M.S, because there is no option. So I answer questions, unload groceries and stack the cold things in a rented refrigerate in a rented house with plastic on the roof to keep the rain out. This is 2014 and my family is still living out the ravages or the year 2009. 5 years later have things gotten better? Such a loaded question, compared to what and what have we learned along the way. We’re not destitute or homeless. Nor are we living in our home, that’s for someone else. I screen calls from Property Management companies. We fled our house to keep our house. I remind myself as I struggle with the claustrophobia of these rented walls. We like others, brought too much. The furniture against every inch of the walls. A few wall hangings in a flawed attempt to make it feel like home. I am lazy and uninspired in this house. Still we are getting by. Our beautiful daughter flourishes. Our son has just graduated from college with a B.S. in Electrical Engineering. He is on his way to a masters program. He is my heart, she is my soul, and my husband is my love. I could not exist as a whole person without a single one of them. We place sheets and blankets lovingly on the couch for our son when he is home. The pets greet him with excitement and exuberant when he walks in the door. He is gracious about no longer having a room of his own to come home to. I grieve the warmth and privacy of his old space. He would stay longer then. My heart aches for a full house. This is what the recession has brought us and we make the best of it. I spend countless hours walking the dog when I can, or taking the dog to the dog park. I schedule out our summers as I always have. I exist here now.
I went to the ocean today and allowed the waves to wash his angry voice from my mind. I had hung up a telephone and taken a stand, but his voice still encroached on the joy of my day. As each wave hit the sand I imagined it pulling layers of his voice away from me, gently clearing my mind as it always had. Once free, I noticed my daughter on the beach playing with the dog and dead jelly fish that had washed ashore. I noticed my husband sitting beside me, and most important I noticed how happy I am.
I honor my children today. They are my best work and my deepest love. Each is a unique person that any mother would be proud of. I honor my Mother today, for without her I would not be who I am. I honor my Husband today, for without him this day would never have been mine.