Vignettes

Mom

A light has appeared in the tunnel and though it's not yet clear if it's the end of the tunnel or an oncoming train, it's the first light we've seen in six weeks so we're hopeful even as we keep our ears open for the sound of a train.

I was talking to my dad last evening as I headed back from the hospital, both of us buoyed by the latest developments and having a generally fun conversation when he just blessed me-I don't know how else to describe it. He trusts me. He said it. He trusts no one and he trusts me. What I say matters to him. Perhaps only one person who may read this will have a sense of context about this, having known me since my late teens when I would have bet all my future income against anyone who suggested I would ever even have a cordial conversation with him. I am grateful for many things today but more than anything I'm grateful for time. Time for things to evolve and become, to repair and mature. I'm grateful my mother didn't die six weeks ago without us every really knowing why she got so sick. I hate that we've been chasing this monster for three years and on day 45 of her crisis, people finally start doing some earnest research but what's done is done and we were given time to have this day. Grateful, just grateful that my mom to got vindication/validation of the thing that has ailed her so long and made her wonder if she was capable of creating such a pathology in her head.
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Trust

When my dad tells me he thinks I am noble, that I would be a wonderful mother, and I have a wonderful heart, a part of me wonders what in the world I did to make him think that, a part of me swells with warmth, pride, and love, and yet another part of me worries about the things I have done and will do to challenge and disappoint the high esteem of a man whose esteem is really hard to win. I have never met anyone whose opinion I care more about than his. I am sure it feeds both my militancy and my worship at work. Anyone who governs with the assumption I give two shits what they think of me will see me going out of my way to project how little I care about what they think. The things I tend to admire about the managers I do like all hearken back to my father. Wary people are my kind of people. When you're in, you're totally in; they trust your judgement and give you the benefit of doubt. Before that, it's polite but not terribly warm. It sucks but it feels so good to have the trust of someone who trusts so few people. I know that doesn't do it for everyone but it motivates me.

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Loquacious me

"You walk in the door talking." This from my sister coming back from the hospital two weeks ago after a tough visit. We drove a portion of the trip back in silence until my fatigue demanded distraction and I turned on the radio in an area of terrible reception in Delaware. All I could get to tune in was a country music station and Delilah which was playing Josh Grobin. It was terrible but I settled on Grobin and that's when Ashley broke her silence and insisted talking would be better than Grobin whose music she was convinced would be playing in the elevator down to hell (because Satan loves the irony of 'You lift me up' perhaps?). I asked her what she wanted to talk about since she was insisting Grobin wouldn't do and she replied, 'I don't know, you're the talker, you walk in the door talking.' Whatever. I believe talking is healthy and describing me as a talker is clearly relative. Which segues into...

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Whatever you do, don't ask me how things are going or how I am doing

Everyone deals with things differently. In this situation, one of things that made it easier to share with my boss as things were evolving that first week was he wasn't focused on me, my feelings, how I was coping, any of that stuff. I assume he is that way for the same reason he hasn't cried since he was a teenager, it doesn't make anything better. Might also be a man thing, I don't know. He said he was sorry about what was happening once, he didn't continue to lament the situation or inquire about how people were holding up. He just let me talk when I wanted to talk and kept me dialed into what was going on outside my crisis. He checked in but I didn't feel chased. I understood how he was approaching it because it's how I would have approached it. It doesn't have to come up every single time we talk. It isn't an obligatory conversation topic.

I really feel most people want to be able to freak out or vent when they want and don't really want to explain how they feel in response to prompting because if it is a ongoing situation; illness, stress at work, relationship issues, the reality is there are no great days relative to a generally crappy situation. But there IS the rest of life so we don't have to be like network TV and drown ourselves in 24/7 coverage of a shitty circumstance. Yes, I know you aren't living much worse in the United States than folks in Shelby County Tennessee right now but does it have to be the first thing I hear about every single day, milking the story from every possible angle even when there is nothing new to report? I do understand the concern behind the 24/7 mode of the friends who make my situation front and center of every conversation but I still resist giving eyewitness interviews. I don't doubt if I wanted to talk to them, assuming they were around and could talk, that they would listen to me ramble. Emotion is a lot like a passing squall though. Timing is everything and the older we get the harder it gets to connect to people when we actually "need" them as an umbrella (like the way I worked that Rhianna reference in there? Thought you would). So I find shelter where I can and don't want to talk about squalls after they have passed or about past present or future rain while I'm waiting for the river to crest.

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Isn't it always about a boy eventually?

Everyone I know is hitting their milestones in career, life, and love and I am languishing behind. Even my birthday twin who seemed to be right on track with me to spinsterhood is married now. My soul twin, still divorcing has already had to decide between two men competing for her affection. She will no doubt be beguiling to someone in her new office as well. If I were to make a hopeful observation about how things tend to go for me, even though I am the girl no one notices (except guys who are married or engaged, those guys think I'm awesome which is not at all helpful), is eventually something will break my way. I hope I'm not 60 when that happens. It's entirely possible though. It's not life or death God but it would be really nice if 'Ava, party of 2' was close to getting a table up in this joint.