As my dear readers might recall I had been working on rebuilding a friendship with someone from Massachusetts. We had been emailing each other for the last few months intermittantly, with the idea that we would see each other when I was in town. In addition to trying to catch up with Michele, I wrote to a number of people ahead of time letting them know when I would be around. Usually I just grab a vehicle if I can and drive around on the chance that someone would be home. While I like having no schedule and being spontaneous, sometimes I wind up feeling very lonely so I tried something new. This meant putting myself out there, something I find very triggering. What if no one writes or calls? What if they do out of obligation? WTF does that mean anyway? Insecure? Moi?
Before camp I finally saw my daughter (unofficial foster, in my life for about 10 years now). We met and talked for about six hours straight. It was wonderful to catch up with her and really hear what's going on (a couple of emails and phone calls just don't cut it). Unfortunately it sounds like her relationship isn't going to last and her plans for schooling are vague; while her plans to have a baby is still strongly in place. I encouraged her to get some education or training before getting pregnant because it is likely she will be doing this alone. Somewhat to TGF's dismay I said I would help her financially if she goes to school. It won't be a lot, which I told her, but I would do what I could to support her goals.
As usual I stayed with Adrienne but due to a lot of craziness did not get to spend a ton of time with her but it was still good to see her and the boys. Because of the craziness I needed to make plans to stay somewhere else when I returned to Northampton from camp. In keeping with my modus operandi I did nothing about this until the bitter end of camp, staying with my pal Spirit and his housemates for two nights. It was a nice taste of my old life, living with a bunch of folks, sharing things, mish mash of furniture, the smells of a hippie house - ah the memories.
While there I spent an afternoon with friends I haven't seen in at least four years! Ann & Donna moved in across the street from my tiny house in Northampton back in 1995 and instantly we became buddies. Back in December 2002 I flew back to Massachusetts from California to attend the birth of their son. I'm pretty sure I saw them one time since then. In the intervening time they adopted a gorgeous little girl who I had only seen photos of for the last 3 years. We had a great afternoon hanging out, seeing their new house, playing with the kids and catching up. It was so sweet, really was. I must stay in better touch.
The next afternoon I finally caught up with Michele and it was so sweet to hear her voice, see her smile. Wow. Her youngest was in the car, he was a year old when I left so he doesn't have much recognition of me. He is imprinted deeply on my soul as he was the first baby I ever held before being cleaned, blood and amniotic fluid smelling sweet, soaking into my hands, dripping on my pants. When we arrived at the house I was last behind them and heard A (the eldest, the fourth birth I attended) called "Where's Dharma!?!?" So sweet. I got a huge hug from her that felt so good. Next up was A2 who has been slow to warm up during other visits. Not this time! A big long hug. OMG I was in heaven.
Later that night A2 asked me if I had children and I said no (too hard to explain Missy). Michele looked at me and whispered yes you do, meaning her kids. My heart just swelled. We stayed up talking after the kids were asleep and it was so nice, much like old times. The next morning she drove me to the airport and again the conversation just flowed. Mostly from her this time which was fine, the evening was a lot of me. When she dropped me off she asked "when's a good time to visit Ohio?". Again, hope rose and I have more faith that we can rebuild our friendship.
In my overall plans to visit the east more often than this once a year crap so I have great hopes of seeing these people and other much more in the future.
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Monday, March 26, 2007
Separations
As frequently happens, I think about someone, aware that I ought to be in better touch, and of course I hear from that person. Today I received an email from Lacey*, whom I refer to as my foster daughter, though there was no involvement from any official parties. She thinks of me as one of her mothers, I think of her as my daughter - it's all good.
The first thing I did before actually reading the email was scan the document, praying that the word "pregnant" would not be there. Only after I determined that a grandchild was not in the immediate future did I actually read it. For better or worse, the main content of the letter was to tell me that she is getting divorced. Now this is not the most terrible thing I can think of at all.
Yes, it's true I know nothing about the man she married other than the assumptions I could make based on what I saw at their wedding. It was not pretty, not at all. TGF who hails from the south (when we were dating long distance she used to sign her emails YSB - Your Southern Babe) said she was hearing the theme music of Deliverance as we wound our way through the boonies of western Massachusetts on dirt roads to get first house where the wedding was, and then more dirt roads to another family property for the reception.
We drove up to a posse of young men standing in the road smoking cigarettes, wearing black Carhardt jeans and black Stetsons, to ask where we should park. After passing them we glanced at each other, eyebrows raised up to heaven. Later we determined that the groom was the one with the John Deere belt buckle.
As we waited, as patiently as possible for the late bride, we watched the laundry waving in the gentle breeze no more than 15 feet behind where the couple would soon be exchanging vows. Fighting nausea I tried to amuse myself and TGF by dissing the inappropriate costuming that passed for wedding attendance attire. Finally we heard a chugging and grinding sound that heralded Lacey's arrival in, wait for it, a hay cart pulled by a tractor.
She looked absolutely lovely, and the dress was quite nice but, OMG, she wore flip flops with sequins! Obviously I had not schooled her well in this area. Seriously barefoot would have been perfectly acceptable, sweet even but those things were inexcusable.
In the end I cried a bit but rallied by the time I was on the receiving line. We exchanged a long hug and each shed some tears. This was the first time I had seen her in, hm, two years? Whenever it was it was a whole other phase of her development. She came up from the San Diego area up to the Bay Area with her girlfriend (her first, and as far as I know only one) to attend SF Pride. Yes it had been a long time in a short span of calendar years. In the time in between she had decided to leave the west coast (again), leaving her first sapphic love to give western Massachusetts and her relationship with her mother another try. Somehow she managed to fall in love with a local good ol' boy and was now getting married. I digress, back to the wedding day.
Soon enough TGF and I were back on the dirt roads, or as my friend Mush likes to say, BFE. We got a little lost because the maps that Lacey had dutifully printed out were pieced together - backwards. Between the bad map, jet lag, and mama worry I had completely lost my memory of which towns sat next to which. We knew we were in the right place when the lone dusty opening off the road was marked by a "John Deere Lane" sign. Apparently devotional idolatry to farm equipment runs in the family as this was the groom's grandfather's place.
The main course was to be prepared in the enormous wooden, wall-less structure with enough grill space, refrigerating units and electricity running to it to serve about five army platoons. A few feet from there was the largest, most luxurious outhouse I have ever seen - plumbed toilet, sink and shower. It also served as storage for dessert - trays of cookies were laid on the linoleum flooring. Yum. Country music, the melody of which makes TGF's ears bleed, or so she says, bleared from speakers attached to the enormous structure. I was stunned. The last musical taste of Lacey's, that I was aware of, consisted of hip hop, Korn, and standard top 40 pop.
While waiting for the main course of hamburgers, franks, and baked beans there was a delightful spread of appetizers: cheetos, a poor excuse for nachos, crackers with sprayed cheese, among other culinary high points. Now TGF and I love cheetos, don't get me wrong and if we were to serve them at our wedding reception it would about camp, or iconoclastic you know? Here, it was youth and budgetary concerns.
At some point Lacey came over and proceeded to gush about my presence, about various friends, and well just did that gushy "OMG I'm a bride" thing. One of the few descriptions of the various folks she rattled off at me which stood out was the following. She pointed out "Joe", telling me he was a good buddy of her new hubby and that he was the "family taxidermist" because in the "Smith" family one has a family taxidermist. Here I sat, her mostly vegetarian, partially Buddhist, recycling, largely pacifist mama trying to find a good response to the idea that my son-in-law was a hunter.
After she flitted off to the next set of guests, TGF and I went back to our empty table (there were way more seats at the wedding than guests and the same abundance of derrière options were at the reception. Jet lag and the next day flight's looming, we left for more relaxing accommodations. We returned to our friends' Adrienne and Don's chaotic home to regale them with observations of the day. Suddenly their offerings of ganja were looking awfully appealing.
Here it is less than two years later, her divorce is almost final. She has so much growing and potential to take advantage of in the years to come. I only hope she knows that.
*Not her real name.
The first thing I did before actually reading the email was scan the document, praying that the word "pregnant" would not be there. Only after I determined that a grandchild was not in the immediate future did I actually read it. For better or worse, the main content of the letter was to tell me that she is getting divorced. Now this is not the most terrible thing I can think of at all.
Yes, it's true I know nothing about the man she married other than the assumptions I could make based on what I saw at their wedding. It was not pretty, not at all. TGF who hails from the south (when we were dating long distance she used to sign her emails YSB - Your Southern Babe) said she was hearing the theme music of Deliverance as we wound our way through the boonies of western Massachusetts on dirt roads to get first house where the wedding was, and then more dirt roads to another family property for the reception.
We drove up to a posse of young men standing in the road smoking cigarettes, wearing black Carhardt jeans and black Stetsons, to ask where we should park. After passing them we glanced at each other, eyebrows raised up to heaven. Later we determined that the groom was the one with the John Deere belt buckle.
As we waited, as patiently as possible for the late bride, we watched the laundry waving in the gentle breeze no more than 15 feet behind where the couple would soon be exchanging vows. Fighting nausea I tried to amuse myself and TGF by dissing the inappropriate costuming that passed for wedding attendance attire. Finally we heard a chugging and grinding sound that heralded Lacey's arrival in, wait for it, a hay cart pulled by a tractor.
She looked absolutely lovely, and the dress was quite nice but, OMG, she wore flip flops with sequins! Obviously I had not schooled her well in this area. Seriously barefoot would have been perfectly acceptable, sweet even but those things were inexcusable.
In the end I cried a bit but rallied by the time I was on the receiving line. We exchanged a long hug and each shed some tears. This was the first time I had seen her in, hm, two years? Whenever it was it was a whole other phase of her development. She came up from the San Diego area up to the Bay Area with her girlfriend (her first, and as far as I know only one) to attend SF Pride. Yes it had been a long time in a short span of calendar years. In the time in between she had decided to leave the west coast (again), leaving her first sapphic love to give western Massachusetts and her relationship with her mother another try. Somehow she managed to fall in love with a local good ol' boy and was now getting married. I digress, back to the wedding day.
Soon enough TGF and I were back on the dirt roads, or as my friend Mush likes to say, BFE. We got a little lost because the maps that Lacey had dutifully printed out were pieced together - backwards. Between the bad map, jet lag, and mama worry I had completely lost my memory of which towns sat next to which. We knew we were in the right place when the lone dusty opening off the road was marked by a "John Deere Lane" sign. Apparently devotional idolatry to farm equipment runs in the family as this was the groom's grandfather's place.
The main course was to be prepared in the enormous wooden, wall-less structure with enough grill space, refrigerating units and electricity running to it to serve about five army platoons. A few feet from there was the largest, most luxurious outhouse I have ever seen - plumbed toilet, sink and shower. It also served as storage for dessert - trays of cookies were laid on the linoleum flooring. Yum. Country music, the melody of which makes TGF's ears bleed, or so she says, bleared from speakers attached to the enormous structure. I was stunned. The last musical taste of Lacey's, that I was aware of, consisted of hip hop, Korn, and standard top 40 pop.
While waiting for the main course of hamburgers, franks, and baked beans there was a delightful spread of appetizers: cheetos, a poor excuse for nachos, crackers with sprayed cheese, among other culinary high points. Now TGF and I love cheetos, don't get me wrong and if we were to serve them at our wedding reception it would about camp, or iconoclastic you know? Here, it was youth and budgetary concerns.
At some point Lacey came over and proceeded to gush about my presence, about various friends, and well just did that gushy "OMG I'm a bride" thing. One of the few descriptions of the various folks she rattled off at me which stood out was the following. She pointed out "Joe", telling me he was a good buddy of her new hubby and that he was the "family taxidermist" because in the "Smith" family one has a family taxidermist. Here I sat, her mostly vegetarian, partially Buddhist, recycling, largely pacifist mama trying to find a good response to the idea that my son-in-law was a hunter.
After she flitted off to the next set of guests, TGF and I went back to our empty table (there were way more seats at the wedding than guests and the same abundance of derrière options were at the reception. Jet lag and the next day flight's looming, we left for more relaxing accommodations. We returned to our friends' Adrienne and Don's chaotic home to regale them with observations of the day. Suddenly their offerings of ganja were looking awfully appealing.
Here it is less than two years later, her divorce is almost final. She has so much growing and potential to take advantage of in the years to come. I only hope she knows that.
*Not her real name.
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