Tag: almost daily selfie

I had the opportunity to dive into a different life for 8 days. A parallel universe that included kids and a marriage. One day I was solo and running errands all over Boston and by that night, I was in NC with three kids, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my mom. There was one consistent thing though: the too small living space.

At first, the echoes of my old life crept in. I reached for the bowls to the right of the sink instead of behind it. I hand washed dishes instead of throwing them in the dishwasher. And yet, I grew accustomed to this new life. I woke up quickly because if I didn’t the kids would be bouncing on my head or screeching over who got to build the fort with the sofa cushions and, besides, they needed food. I could tell if Baby Mac had washed her hands post potty or just told me she had by listening to her footsteps down the hallway. I could convince Bubba Mac to eat if I could distract him. I studied the velvet wrinkles on Mac 3’s itty bitty thighs and oh how we celebrated when they increased (cause a newborn’s job is to gain weight and she took some time to get started).

When not chasing or scolding or laughing around/at/with the older two, I watched them, considered them, evaluated them. Oh how they loved to test boundaries – yours and their own – to see if they’d hold, to see how far they could go with their negotiations for more TV, more snacks, more toys. They’d also test our memories to see if they could get a different answer out of Mommy or Daddy or Mommy two minutes later.

Time galloped forward, blurred, and stalled out in chunks of waiting. Time stretched peacefully as I held a sleeping Mac 3, her body warm against mine. Her sweet breath on my cheek. The way her whole body breathed. Her navy eyes blinking awake, heavy with sleep, finally open and alert. Her hiccups and flailing arms. Baby and Bubba Mac tiptoeing closer wanting to see their new baby sister. The older two careening away, spinning with laughter, cackling with intent. Silence was scarce. Chaos was the norm. A full heart beat in my chest.

And then I was dumped back into my old life. 45 degrees + rain. Welcome home. With only the ghost of Mac 3’s strawberry clad bottom in the palm of my hand to keep me warm.

This is a goodbye, but not really. It’s a goodbye to seeing her in person and working in the same office building and sitting on side by side barstools and hearing her lovely accent and seeing her fierce side eye, but it’s not goodbye to conversing on twitter / email. She’ll be traversing and working and tasting and doing and living and filling up that creative well in places far far away.

It’s a weird thing saying goodbye for now, for an extended period, for the time being to a friend inside and outside the office because this cutting of physical ties makes me want to let her know what she means to me, thank her for all she’s done, and reflect on what she’s taught me, but then again, we’ll continue to communicate and share and laugh online (the internet leash is long and unbreakable) which means my spewing of my feelings is a bit melodramatic.

But this is a change, a big one, and so my dear dear smart wicked generous talented, Adriana, I want to say to you THANK YOU for leading by example, for living with passion, for writing with courage, for encouraging me, for giving me opportunities and time and space to write, for listening, for laughing, for baking, for agreeing to just one more glass, for introducing me to Dear Sugar, for reading, for discussing, for explaining, for asking me to text as soon as I get home, for cooking, for poetry, for knowing me despite what I try to hide, for being my friend. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’m going to miss you so so so unbelievably much that I don’t really have the proper words for it. All I can say is that I can’t wait to live vicariously through you, hear all the delectable details, and read the words you craft.

Bon voyage, my lovely!

I oscillated between awake and asleep. I’d had a dream I was sorry not to have finished but a major headache woke me up. Medicine achieved. I willed myself to return to the mysterious dream and even slid my eye mask back down, but the closest I got was a vague state of mind. I was aware my alarm was due to chime in less than an hour, but dream-brain had lines of poetry on repeat that I was trying not to forget before I fell back asleep. Or woke up. I’m not sure which. The darkness and the severe lack of sleep from the past five days overrode that little voice in my head saying wasn’t it was time to get up? Isn’t it time to get up? Waking up is more important than figuring out the dream.

*phone chirps with text message*

*pulls off eye mask to blaze of sunlight*

*clock reads 8:40*

*panic*

My alarm clock betrayed me.

My phone’s screen said the alarm was going off (had been going off) since 6:21am, but I never heard it. I’m usually at work by 8:30 and here I was still in bed at 8:40. The panic of reality obliterated any lingering traces of anything besides MOVE FASTER NOW and with two extra hours of sleep, man, did I move.

Where’s the line between admiration and jealousy? When do you start learning and stop copying? When do you know the strength, the weakness of your words? How do you know what victory tastes like when all you know is defeat? How do you find your voice when you want to sound like someone else?

All the questions and none of the answers.

Well, maybe one answer.