Today, Long Ago

A few years ago my mom gave me the last of my things--a box of scrapbooks and growing-up memorabilia--she had stored for me during my college years. One day boredom drove me to sift through the cardboard box and I came across a typed journal on formal scrapbook pages. I had never seen this before and curiosity drove me to begin reading.

It was a journal of my mom's thoughts about me beginning in the hospital just after I was born. I was born on a snowy/icy Portland morning. Unusual weather for November, resulting in my mom spending the majority of her/my stay in the hospital alone. She has expressed to me that she enjoyed this solitary time immensely. Moreover, this time alone gave her ample space to think and write.

Those thoughts, of hers, are precious to me above nearly all of my other earthly belongings (rivaled only by my 'bikie'). Though I was not a mother myself at the time I first read her journal about me, I am glad I was at the tail end of my twenties so I had the maturity to appreciate it.

Since I just had my second child and spent some time alone thinking about this new child of mine I realized how much I can relate to the person my mother was, alone with me, in the hospital 32 years ago. Those early moments, days in your new baby's life are precious because it is as close as one comes to the spirits in the world beyond and you are wrapped in peace, insight, and revelation.

My mom came to visit a few weeks ago to meet Poquito Tito, to play with Hip, and to help me. As we spent time together her words, 32 years ago, were fresh in my mind. I saw my mom with new eyes, with wonder. I was her, 32 years ago, in those moments. Did she recognize herself in me? Looking at her I felt confidence, because I am proud of the person I will become.

(But I've got a lot of work to do!)

Thank you, Mom, for writing about me. And thank you for everything else. It's been a lot lately, seriously.

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I was in the best mood today I've been in for the better part of a year. I felt like me again. Maybe I won't need Prozac after all!

(But maybe I will)

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Today Hip chased garbage trucks up and down our road with his BFF, it was darling. Friday=garbage day=happy 2 year-old=happy mommy.

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Tomorrow I am making my maiden, possibly only, voyage to Detroit. Stay tuned to see if I survive.

(That's not a joke)