Deuces

As I pulled into the parking space I was overcome with emotion. It hit me unexpectedly. In a breezy and excited mood, I had been on cloud 9 after an uneventful work day, an amazing spin class, and time in the late evening to go Christmas shopping for my husband and in-laws- it was as close to a perfect day as a woman could want. But as I skirted easily into the open parking spot my heart clenched, and my eyes welled up in tears.  Out of nowhere.  My heart broke in that moment.  I was my 21 year old self.  I hadn’t spent time at this mall in nearly two decades.  Once my “home” mall, when I got older other venues opened up and I moved away, and just stopped coming here.  But now living back in the area I grew up in I find myself transported to places and memories I hadn’t thought on for as many years.  The spot was the same spot I had parked in almost 20 years ago. It was the one where I locked my keys in my gold Chevy Cavalier at age 21.   Only mon...

That city noise was yours, And never really mine, I did my part  To say, again, That city noise is fine, Your say nothing stance; My verbal dance, Were going nowhere, But back. You always chose where, The how, The when; And I’d wait, Again. Who I am; I like quiet, The dark, And space, Feelings taken with grace, Though I often miss  your face. (I often miss your face.) Your chuckle, And gait, Occasional wit, Smile, Eyes, And one special lie, I often miss your face. 

Occasionally, my husband lies. It’s usually about the food I make. I’m not sure why.  It’s not bad.  Usually healthy.  Usually carefully crafted. Oftentimes an elaborate recipe that calls for cumin and garlic salt and other seasonings in the back of the cupboard + some somethings diced and lots of pots and pans to clean.  “I ate already” he’ll say. And I’ll guilt him into at least trying what I’ve made.  And then he lies. For like, The next 10 minutes. Going on and on about how good it is... how I’ve outdone myself, how it’s the best thing he’s has in a long time, how’s he ‘going to take some to work tomorrow’.  And of course I’m not around to substantiate that he’s actually eaten what I’ve carefully crafted. There are a lot of things my husband will let me do for him.  Laundry, arranging medical appointments, buying him clothing... But food. He doesn’t eat the food I make.  (Without lying). Pants on fire.

The late flight to Oakland. The quiet flight.  Extra space and no one beside me. This. This is the flight where I’ll find time to write. Listening to Luke Combs. Just loud enough I can hear him sing about a Beer Can... Memories... some other stuff. *Shrugs I bought the album on a whim.  I do that kind of thing.  I hear a song I like and I take a chance on the whole album. Something to entertain me on these flights.  More than the norm as late.  More trips, More people, More getting to know, Learning, More climbing, On an airplane, Into the sky.  I think of my babies. Alana, always aloof as I walk out the door. Sayler, sometimes with a few tears in her eyes.  “Don’t say “gone””, she pleads, as I assure her “I’ll only be gone for 2 days.... back before your soccer game on Saturday...” I know she’ll be okay.  Better than okay. Sayler is many things. Resilient. Independent. Loving.  Confid...

I’d blame it on astrology, But it’s more the lack of apology, To be frank, between you and me.  Our horoscopes always say, It would end up this way, So I should have known much sooner. Exactly what you knew then, You said it times ten, After all, Emphatically, verbally, physically. Hey, let’s embrace, We’ve been here before, But I needed a bit more, From myself is where I’ll find Cruel and cold Not my thing anymore  Was weary,  And used, Thin line, fused.

Second grade is treating us more kindly than first, and we’re only 3 weeks in.  Sayler lights up just a little brighter, her unintentional humor is a little bit more enlightening and the things she creates and experiments with are a bit more interesting.  Here’s to the start of a new academic year- highlights of life with a 7 year old - I bought the fancy, expensive, organic peanut butter to which my 7 year old informed me: “I don’t like that kind- mom, I only eat Skippy on sandwiches, and only Jif on apples”. Well, who knew? - Lying in bed the other night we went through a series of “about me” questions.  She asked if I knew who she had a ‘teen crush’ on to which I said I didn’t know and she proceeded to tell me she had a ‘teen crush’ on another second-grader (named Aiden, in her class).  I was relieved it wasn’t an *actual teen.  -When I asked her if she knew where mommy works she said “job”. I asked her what I did and she said “judge people”.  Er’ okay. ...

I lie my head down each night. And most of these nights I think about how I had no time to write.  But I don’t think on it begrudgingly.  Rather, I feel an ease and contentedness in my heart, knowing that my days are so full that by the time my head hits the pillow I haven’t had time to write. Most nights, I lie next to my 2 girls. They fuss and fidget over who sleeps next to me, Often clawing one another to squeeze in. It makes me hot. Especially on a Southern California night like this. At times I’ll opt to lie between them, seemingly satisfying both of my best girls wishes to be close. It isn’t quite enough. They still claw.  I love them. Sayler lost her first tooth this summer.  She came home from summer camp, beaming one day. The hole in her mouth evidencing her first bottom tooth has finally wiggled free.  And Alana’s summer has been only slightly more dramatic.  She’s showing interest in the potty.  Which, I wouldn’t be a mother if I didn’t shar...