by mssinglemama on September 7, 2009
“If everything works out with John, Benjamin won’t know a time when he wasn’t around.”
As my therapist’s words sink in the last three years of my life flash through my mind; from the beginning when I packed everything up and moved into my mother’s, to the quiet nights at her house in the woods wondering and wishing myself away and back to some semblance of independence and then to the moment when Benjamin and I stepped into our own sweet, little apartment – ready to begin our new life.
What followed is all here, on this blog in my eBook, or safe in my mind.
I sit on her couch, staring off into a painting on the wall as I try to grasp this idea of him not remembering anything before John Bear. The memories wash over me – the adventures big and small – like the time we were yelled at by a hair salon owner or the countless grocery store trips that typically ended in knock down drag out tantrums. Then there were the big adventures like trips to find Joshua Trees
or deep forests and mountain coves in Vancouver.
And smaller adventures like hours of puddle jumping for no reason
or sweating it out on a hot summer day in August to hear our future president, a man also raised by a single mom, speak to us from about twenty feet away.
or chasing bunnies with Sydney.
Now, looking back, it is these moments – the moments when I forced myself out of the house with him, braving the book store, the library, the festivals, the camping trips and the road trips all by myself, trying to fill the time – that are the best memories I have of the two of us.
Memories of the moments when we both forgot where we were or when we just took our time
because we didn’t have anywhere else to be.
“So they’ll all be gone? He won’t remember a thing?” I ask my therapist or, as I fondly call her, Wonder Woman. She’s helping me to straighten out my trust issues and to figure out why, in the past, I had a pattern of choosing bad boys dysfunctional men. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on September 3, 2009
I spotted my first fallen leaves in the grass of the baseball diamond near my post office last Thursday.
The bag over my shoulder was bursting with little brown packages. Each containing a silver or bronze new leaf necklace destined for one of you. I make this walk to the post office, with Murphy in tow and sometimes Mr. Benjamin, at least a few times a week. And still, two months after quitting the day job, these post office trips are my favorite part about my new job.
The walk itself is the last step before the necklaces will be around your necks. I’ve sent packages all over the world now. One even went to Saskatchewan. Another to Argentina and yet another to Great Britian. On these walks it all comes full circle. I feel like a bearer of hope, sending little packages of it one by one to each of you who so generously chose to support my little blogging career by buying one.
When I saw the leaves I stopped for a second to digest the sight of them. August, I thought, it’s still August but I guess Fall is almost here now. I gave Murphy a little whistle and we kept walking. Now about thirty feet from the busy street I had to cross to reach the post office and with the building before me, I started thinking about her.
The first time she processed a pile of my packages, stamping them all and tucking them away under her counter she asked me what was inside.
“Necklaces,” I answered.
“Well, you’re not allowed to send jewelry to Canada,” her words were cold as her hands rested on one of my brown envelopes destined for a single mom in Ontario. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on August 2, 2009
I met the first boy who would break my heart at a party.
My legs were crossed and I had a pillow on my lap, my back leaning into the corner of the sofa. Working three jobs over my summer break between my freshman and sophomore years of college I liked this spot in the corner, far enough removed from the party that I wasn’t expected to chime in but close enough to hear the conversations and the laughter. I wanted to hide my exhaustion and my fat thighs. A hot summer day in Athens, the windows of my friend’s house were open and the light breeze was pulling her curtains and then pushing them back ever so softly. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on May 31, 2009
This morning I woke up before Benjamin, wondering…
The sun light fell on my face, peeking through my dark bamboo blinds – my blinds in my room. I enjoyed the silence and basked in the thought that tomorrow I would be reporting to myself, no one else. Then I wondered how I got here. I am not unique. I am not special. I may be driven and tireless but each of us has this power – the power to change our circumstances or surroundings if we set our mind in that direction.
Just two years ago I was plotting an escape from my marriage, not knowing if or when I’d have my own bedroom again. Leaving my husband took guts – some say – but to me it just seemed like a survival mechanism. That’s exactly how I feel now. There are things happening out there in this big vast space we call the World Wide Web and sometimes you can move through those waters faster solo. And besides… [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on March 3, 2009
My first memory is of toddling behind my mother along a dark hiking trail somewhere out West.
I must have been about Benjamin’s age.
A few hours earlier we had all split up. My father and some of my other siblings stayed on top of the trail while my mom and the rest of us went in. And now we were completely and utterly lost. In the quickly fading light all we had seen were the yellow buffalo crossing signs. Soon we spotted a road. We waited until a car drove by, flagged it down and hitched a ride back to the parking lot where my frantic father was waiting.
Some say your first vivid memory defines your personality.
Does this mean I’m lost? Or afraid? Sounds familiar.
But I’m finding my way. I’m finding it through the eyes of my son, the most amazing thing that could ever happen to someone fearful of love is finding someone who loves you unconditionally. And through him I’m learning how to let someone love me.
On our trip we didn’t get lost. Not once.
And all along the way I couldn’t help but wonder which one of the memories will be his first.
Seeing his first plane
or riding on one?
Or will it be his second flight when the raisin snacks from the first flight gave him a vicious poop attack? (Thanks mommy). Poor kid was screaming his brains out. Luckily the nice man sitting next to us was beyond accommodating. [click to continue…]
because we didn’t have anywhere else to be.
