Posted in Mid-Life Mama, Mother to Crone, Round Two, Teens

Mom, you look crazy

September 27, 2017

57 days remain for me and the Motherhood archetype, and pangs of separation have begun to weave their way into the wild expectancy of transformation.

My own mother was still bleeding when cancer took her at 57. I’m not sure of my grandmother, whose life ended tragically at 55. Or my other grandmother who lived into her early 60’s, heart attack. Numbers are such a comfort to me. (I’m soon to be 54.)

There isn’t much talk of what it is to be on the “other side” of Motherhood. To belong, finally, or again, to self. Even while the heart’s capacity has expanded to include the entire world, like it did when we were children.

“Mom, where are you going in those knee-high socks,” my 17 year old calls after me, as I head down the driveway.

I look down and see that, Yes, I am wearing cream-colored knee-high socks. I threw these on as quick fix to staying warm this morning because I was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers (my sleeping combo since college) and I wanted to see him off to school.

“I’m walking down to the pond,” I say, “Come with me!”

He shakes his head and opens the car door, “You look crazy.”

“That’s the whole point of my age,” I holler back, past the pines, “I don’t have to care.”

He smiles, puts his school bag into the back seat, and follows me down the driveway.

“Do you smell the Balsam? Isn’t it great,” I say.

“You’ve kind of got an Einstein-esque thing going on,” he responds.

I run my hands through my silvery bedhead as we approach the road, hoping no one drives by.

“Is that mine,” he asks, pointing to the flannel over shirt that ties together the whole ensemble.

We walk a bit down the road, alongside the pond, and then onto the dock, until my husband pulls up with the car.

“He’s right. It is crazy,” he says, as we approach him. “But I kind of like it.”

“Don’t take the highway,” I say, “Take the back roads. It’s such a beautiful morning.”

I watch as the car turns around and then pulls past me, heading further and further away, and I wonder: Do I feel sad, or just right?

I pause at the water’s edge, and then with a lift in my step, turn back up the driveway, feeling less confident about my display of carefreeness out on the road, alone.

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Posted in Legacy, Mid-Life Mama

Summer’s passing…


I consider it part of my parting duty to impart beach culture to my mountain grown sons.

Lose the hikers.
Let the hair become wild with humidity.
Get sand… everywhere.
Let it stay.
Smell the air.
Feel the spray.
Sample slices until you find the best pizza.
Welcome the fog. The rain. Let it all be one.
Thick hoodies. Leisurely breakfasts. Coffee. Music. Chaos.
Beach chairs. Flip flops. Fudge.
Salt water taffy. Beer bottles. Bar flies. Bare feet. Sunburn.
Shellfish. Sandcastles. Donuts. Surf shops.
Waves. Seagulls. Lifeguards. Sunsets.
Salt. Sea.
Devotion. Sensuality.
Creation. Myth.
Belonging. Return.
Devotion.
Womb.

Posted in Fragile Life, Milestone Moments, Twenty-something

August 1st

to be embodied. together. in the water. in the sun. in the shade. on a blanket. their skin. his chestnut eyes. his ocean blues. my babies grown. their parents greyed. this family. once forever. now moments. like this. as deep as all of us in the same bed. didn’t he twirl my hair as we nursed in the blue chair. didn’t he cry to sleep in the stars & moon sling against his father’s chest. i must take a photo! but no. i can’t bear to capture that which is only now. this breath. my head. his chest.

Posted in Legacy, Twenty-something

Legacy Resisted

As a young woman, I steered away from any young man interested in medicine (and by steer away, I mean–a sharp & immediate U-Turn!)

But my son.

And so, I bow again to the legacy of his great-great-great grandfather (Community Health Officer), great-great grandparents (Doctor & Nurse), great grandfather (Surgeon), grandparents (Surgeon & Nurse), aunt (Doula), and second & first cousins (Nurses & Researchers & MD & Body workers), as I bow to him, with pride.

 

Posted in Insight, Mid-Life Mama, Nuts & Bolts, School, Teens

Flip the morning!

(Something to remember in September.)

Communal first. Personal last!

Because I didn’t figure this out until my second TEEN, and since my nesting days are numbered, I wanted to share this stroke of brilliance with others in case you’ve been suffering too.

I  don’t know about your teens, but ours rarely had time to make themselves breakfast or even eat the one prepared for them, let alone contribute in the kitchen, without keeping a ride waiting or missing it altogether, particularly after the sink hole of showering & biological/sociological-mandated prepping which led to forgetting homework or instruments or cleats; so now we’ve flipped the morning:

Downstairs first–packing up, contributing, eating, and then as much time as they want upstairs, Ie. whatever time they’ve left for themselves.

(ps. as parents, try reversing the order for yourself. personal first. communal last.)

Posted in Fragile Life, Insight, Mid-Life Mama

beauty & oblivion

I stalled in first coming up my own driveway
due to the beauty and oblivion and bravado
of youth–
a half dozen lemony butterflies
fluttering around my tires
and what appeared to be an adolescent
Robin
hopping back & forth
back & forth
across the way
uncertain how or where to lift off
calling out,
“Mom? Mom? Mom!”