5 posts tagged “mom”

I woke this morning and after feeding Mecca, I returned to the mirror and the bedroom and took a good look.

I didn't do what I normally would do, which would be to begin picking out each and every flaw I can find and wishing it wasn't there. Instead I actually admired the curve of my cheekbones, the shape of my lips, the alignment of my features, a face framed by unruly curls. And then I rested on my eyes, staring back at me.

A direct, strong and unwavering gaze. Not at all furtive. Not aversive...but without that twinkle of expectation. I saw the eyes of my mother when I was a child gazing into her face. Eyes of resignation and a gradual acceptance of things she wished she never knew. A filtered veneer that lets in just enough to keep her sustained, but little else. I studied those eyes, my eyes...my mother's eyes, and wondered if the world could see that quiet observation of everything moving around behind them.

I used to chase rainbows and grasp at butterflies without ever looking to check and see if my feet were on solid ground.  While I miss that girl, I also know that this life brings many lessons that remind you of the importance of reaching up and staying grounded. These eyes are warm, but hazed. They are soft, but indifferent. They study...and watch...and hold safe the observations of everything moving around about them.

These are my mother's eyes and everything she held behind them. I understand. And now they are mine. I hope they lead me to a cool, dry place.

Hi everyone, meet Socks. Socks is Mom's black lab mix. She's as goofy as two left shoes and just as sweet. And...currently, she's lost in a vortex.

Alternative titles for this post were:

Anywhere, But Here.
One Flew Out of the Cuckoo's Nest.
or
Once Upon A Time in Austin.

Somehow...Sanity won out. Let's hope that starts a trend.

My mother as we speak is driving across the country with her husband and her brother in tow. She's moving to her new home in...Texas. You might recall I moved to Austin nearly three years ago chasing a dream and running from my own demons. I learned in this time, two invaluable lessons. Sometimes chasing dreams shifts them further away, and demons know no state lines. The remedy for both is the same. Acceptance, faith and a good dose of patience with the world and most importantly, with yourself.

Mom finds her way on this odyssey for reasons that are completely different and yet painfully similar. Chasing dreams and running from problems that will lie in wait and show up on her doorstep one morning when she goes to fetch the morning paper. I watch and wish for all good things for her, knowing I cannot chart her course anymore than she can. I know better than to believe I can control too much more than my bladder or my choices. She will inevitably find out the same. Or at least...that is my hope for her. I hope she opens her arms to the adventure. That part I know is key.

I was fiercely opposed to this at first. Her decision to move felt oppressive at best. I assumed that the shackles of being a keystone for an entire family would soon be clasped firmly around my wrists and ankles, placing limits on my choices and a pricetag on my freedom. A few loving souls had to remind me of my own emancipation. It took me decades to find my voice, and now that I've found it, I find it incredibly difficult to silence. That means more intimate connections but it also means more biting disagreements. I've always been headstrong, but now the people around me know precisely what's moving behind my eyes and within my chest. And sometimes...they don't care to know. Mom, especially.

I cannot stuff myself back into the box of obedient child. She continues to search for new ways to make me fit. Somehow...in the midst of this shoving, pulling, tugging and smashing there is a love and bind that both maddens and softens me. What drives me most crazy about my mother, I often see in myself, things I wish weren't there. My mother sees something in me she's never been able to find in herself. I think she finds that both inspiring and frightening. We attract and repel like magnets. From time to time, when we're open and not struggling so much, we manage to love the hell out of each other. Those are the moments I try to retain.

There will be good. There will be bad. The trick I suppose will be not to get too blindsided by either one, because that's the nature of evolution.

Welcome to Texas, Mom.

Love,

RPM

My mom was in this weekend, to prepare for settlement on her house (which happens today). She has keys, she has an address, and this afternoon she will have a home in Texas.

I am over it for the most part. I've gotten over the feeling of being swallowed whole. I've accepted that they are on their way. I've also accepted that there are things in life that you may not think you want, but apparently need to experience for reasons you won't understand a minute before you are supposed to. The anguish comes in fighting the tide. Most of all I've learned that it can never be all about you. There are lessons that time provides, we just despise having to have the patience to experience them.

While we were in the house, I went through each room by myself, touching the walls, getting a sense for the room. And this is going to sound odd but, I went into the bathroom, closed the door and shut off the lights for a few moments. It's just something I do before I move into new space, to get a feel for it's history. I don't make a production of it, I try to go unnoticed, but the realtor caught me to my embarrassment and pulled me aside later.

"What do you think of the house?"

I told her I liked it for them. The house had good energy, I could tell that a kind person lived here. An older person, who lived by herself and had passed away not long ago. The realtor looked at me and she says, "How did you know that?"

I told her I could feel it. That she was a very kind woman, she had a peaceful happy life. There was a calm in the place, a quiet serenity that was very welcoming. The realtor then goes, "what were you doing in the bathroom?"

I looked at her and we both chuckled. I've known her since I moved into my own place a ways back. We've had surface level understanding, chatty conversations about politics and living in Austin. Nothing much deeper. I didn't answer her directly and finally she goes, "you're pyschic."

I laughed. I think, in fact, I might have snorted. That word carries with it immediate baggage. Sort of like, divorced, or handicapped or monster. There are all sorts of predisposed notions that are handed over once any word in this group is uttered, and I don't like predisposed notions. I replied that I was intuitive, yes. That I use my perception many times to tell me what my eyes or the "edited" story may not. I use it to read between the lines. To fill in the blanks. I don't have any ability to forecast the weather or predict winning lottery numbers...but I can sense what's happening in a space, and I can pick up more from people then just what tumbles from their lips. I see paths, sometimes that make no sense at all...until they happen. Don't we all have this capability to some degree? How much we benefit from it largely depends on how much we get in our own way of accessing it. So, does that make me crazy? *cues Gnarls Barkley*

When we were driving back from Cedar Park and furniture stores, I had two instances where I was beseiged by a butterfly. One fluttered around me curiously in front of IHOP, dancing near my face before moving on after about ten seconds. The second one, later in the afternoon, hitched a ride to my windshield and drove with me for about a quarter of a mile. Sometimes I have a series of things that seem to occur with a message attached. I hear things. I observe things. Things are suggested silently to me, in a variety of ways. I don't know what any of that means...

but I accept that, too.

The hardest part in all of this, this acceptance of things...is knowing what you know, having no proof or explanation or logical reasons mapped out to justify a bit of it. Sitting on a nest of things, wondering how they will hatch and hoping no one comes by to ask you what the fuck you think you're doing.  Or better still, resisting the urge to tamper with life in order orchestrate what you want in lieu of trusting that somethings truly are just not in your hands to control.

Sometimes when you think you're lost, and nothing is happening as you planned it...you have to acknowledge that you might be steering just a little bit too hard. Sometimes you have to drift, and trust...and know there is a sense to every little thing happening. Every little thing. And it can be good, if you allow it.

Who was your first celebrity crush?
Submitted by Glory.

This is just effing embarrassing.

When I reviewed this question this morning, my answer sprung immediately (and quite uncomfortably) to mind. I wasn't ready to divulge that...so I called my mother to see if I liked her answer any better. The conversation was priceless.

Me: Mom...who was my first celebrity crush, you recall?
Mom: *thinks*...begins humming a New Edition song.
Me: *remembers when New Edition came out, remembers I was in about seventh grade* Ronnie DeVoe? Nah...he was the first big one...but I had one pre-puberty. I know he wasn't the first.

Mom: oh they came out that late? That's right. *thinks again* What about the Reading Rainbow guy?

Me: *has painful images of Geordi LaForge and erupts in laughter* LAVAR BURTON? I NEVER HAD A CRUSH ON HIM!!!! Good GAWD! Reading Rainbow didn't come on until the other two were pre-school age Mom. I was already 12 or so by then. *Mom and I pee our pants laughing for nearly five minutes*

Mom: How in the hell do you expect me to remember this stuff? Oh wait...wait...no, I remember. Who was that guy? Blonde hair, you met him at the car show when you were eight? The guy from the Dukes of Hazzard?

Me: *sighs* Dammit. I knew it. *bangs head on desk* You sure it wasn't anyone else? Anyone?
Mom: Oh no baby. You were ALL over him. Him and Buck Rogers. But I think you liked Buck Rogers style more than anything else.

(*disclaimer* I was EIGHT. Get off my back. I had limited television access)

Photo courtesy of the NNDB site.