Susiej

Before the sun sets today, I’d like to live within the parameters of today’s minutes, hours and seconds. Lately, this has proved to be an insurmountable task. Maybe Brownies will help me get there. Today, at 11:30, I will pick up my newly minted Freshman at the high school to have his cast removed. Although, it just dawned on me that I have yet to take a photo of him with it on. There is no group shot with him and his brothers on the first day of school, my son on crutches having to trek through his first day of high school on crutches. What is wrong with me?  The kids are already off at school, and there no way to corral them all back for a “let’s pretend it’s the first day” photo shot. Nor have I sorted through, and filed away, school papers from the last school year, which came home in May and June.

My mind is somewhere else. Far off into the past, and far off into the future.  Today, I will try to bring myself back to the present moment — my son’s cast will be removed today. What a milestone this is. Although, we must not get too excited… he’ll be back in a boot, non-walking for up to three months. But physical therapy starts today… and that shrunken leg, which breaks my heart to see, will start its rebuilding process. This is a first step toward healing. For this, I am grateful.

If I can find that open window of time, when we are all at home from sports practices at the same time, I will bake Brownies to celebrate this moment in time, in real time.

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In every town he visited, a violent protest broke out in the streets where Gaylen, the boy in The Search for Delicious,  polled the people on their most delicious food. Everyone knew what the most delicious food was, but no one could agree, yet everyone agreed to disagree. Husbands, asked to be truthful, were forced to give up ship, and confess, that no, he really didn’t love his wife’s meat loaf as much as she had wished, but rather, his Aunt Ninny’s country fried chicken stole his heart instead. People shouted in the streets, vehemently stating that the official declaration of the most delicious food could be nothing else than apples, or walnuts, or Stilton, as father fought against son, and wife against neighbor.

Then, the water dried up. An evil one, seeking to gain the kingship over the country, built a dam against the river, and kept the water from flowing down to the villages.

“People! Your crops are withering. Your animals are gasping. And your children – don’t you care for your children? Your children are weeping for water. People! Your People are dying!”

Suddenly, apples, walnuts, cheese, chicken and even black raspberries lost their allure. When the dam finally broke, and the water was set free, it was the water that became delicious. No one could argue. Everyone agreed. Unanimously, water became the most delicious food. Everything else was just a fringe benefit. My kids are water connoisseurs… saying they like the well water from the lake much more than this city-filtered water here. And when they’re really hot and thirsty… it’s water they want… with lots of ice.

As I read these words to my boys tonight, each one eager to finally get to the end of the book to find out if their own guesses were right, there was a look of revelation on their faces as they realized they too had overlooked the most obvious, yet prized resource.

Sometimes, you have to loose everything to discover what really means the most to you. Here’s to all of you still searching.

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After spending the summer jumping off a wooden dock we took the birthday boy to the city pool, where there were diving boards, chlorine, and cement sidewalks.

He asked if he could jump off the diving boards. I didn’t know. Could he swim to the ladder? So hard to know, as the lake obscures so many of the boundaries that he swims around.

“Sure,” I said, gingerly, keeping my watchful gaze over his body, while scanning the distance from the diving board to the ladder.

He Jumped, and easily swam to the ladder.

Shot from my htc Google phone.

Beaming from his success, he looked back at me and said, “Can I go off the high dive?”

“Sure,” I said.

He marched up the ladder. Took a break, and looked down, and carefully, climbed back down the ladder backwards.

“Mom, you were wrong. I can’t do that.

And Happy Birthday.

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Hey Charlie, I’m sure right now you are standing guard over our dock, keeping the seagulls away.

We’ll be up tomorrow, and this will be a big weekend for star/planet gazing. They tell us we’ll be able to spot Mars. Will you stand on that pier waiting for us, in the dark, like you did that one night when we were watching shooting stars? We barely knew you were there, so close to us, standing so majestically in the dark.

I wonder, has your little offspring made it over to our side of the lake yet?  I love how his downey head, with his bold stripe,  looks so much fluffier than yours. He stands proud, just like you. Are you teaching him about us?

You’re a good friend Charlie. Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

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I looked up from the hospital gown that draped over my belly, my knees poking through the stiff cotton fabric, dotted with green diamond rosettes, and was surprised to see the straight black hair framing the face of my still pregnant girlfriend, as she poked her head through the doorway. She had come to visit my first-born son and me. I had been through an ordeal… my emotions within the last 24 hours had run through the possibility of loosing my son, to an emergency c-section, to the beautiful realization that he was all right, to the awareness that I now had a catheter, and to the excruciating pain in my belly if someone dared to make me laugh. Or worse, if I had to sneeze, or cough. Excruciating pain.

Like a true girlfriend, she sat down on the bed beside me, and snuggled up close to see how I was, before checking on the baby. I lifted the sheets, and showed her how magically this birth had just “flattened my belly like a pancake.” A weight had truly been lifted off of my lungs, and air was much easier to take in. I was thinking how lucky I was to get off so easy – no crunches required. The second I gave birth, my stomach was instantaneously “concave.”

Except when I lifted the sheets and saw her eyes, I sadly realized my perception was a little skewed from reality. Maybe it was all those percocets I had been taking. She looked at my belly, and back up to my face and said, “yeah, it takes awhile to loose some of that.” A bit embarrassed, I pretended to know what she was talking about, brushed off her words and turned our attention to the little baby lying beside the bed.

Fourteen years later, she surprised me again by standing on my doorstep, her black hair falling forward, framing her face. Like a true girlfriend, she plopped down on the sofa with me, and she held me close, knowing a hug was what I sorely needed. Her hand dropped slowly across me, and we both noticed the four-inch wide gap between the waist of my pants and the now truly concave shape of my belly.

A girl may carry her emotions on her face, but it is her belly that reveals what’s happening in her spirit. The belly is the center of power. Yogis tell us that strengthening the belly is vital, as all the energy centers radiate from the frequency given off by the belly. That little pouch that first appears signals the arrival of a new life, or the “extra tire” reveals her satisfaction with the people she loves, and in her confidence to eat just two more of those chocolate chip cookies. Sometimes the belly is not just flat, but seems to be missing. The cookies have lost their charm, and greasy indulgences of junk food are simply passed over. Nothing seems to fit. Almost as if she is getting rid of everything that no longer belongs to who she is. When the belly is truly concave, this is a time when a girl is quietly giving birth to herself.

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“At what,” I said.

He was standing on his crutches, looking out at the back window into the yard at the lake house.

I looked there too, but still didn’t see what he was talking about. So, politely, I said, “yeah, nice.”

He saw through my indifference, and said, “Look at how the sunlight is shinning only on the tree.”

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