December 18
Englewood does have a farmer’s market going for it as well. And it is pretty kick-ass. The morning is chilly but I am determined to avoid close-toed shoes and confining clothing at all costs so I layer up in flowing sweaters and begin a leisure walk down to the main street where Lauren pointed out the Market Locale. As soon as the sun hits, I am thawing and my pace slows to a stroll. There is nothing like the energy of a good Market day. The atmosphere is alive with music and fresh aromas. Crowds are lured from vendor to vendor with free samples. I am always filled with instant inquisitive whimsy in a marketplace and feel more talkative than I’ve felt lately. A man at the Vino Loco booth chats with me about his life in the keys, teaching high school and Florida’s lacking food culture. An artist named Joe draws me into his booth when he makes a passing remark about the material of his clothing: bamboo. It is the softest material I’ve ever felt and I buy a shirt. Joe is confidant yet begins to show his humility as we talk. When I tell him I went to school for photography, he asks if I have a card because he hopes to collaborate with other artists to put their work on his clothing. He gives me his card and I feel that passing inspiration to delve deep into art again. I’ve ignored it for so long.
Across the way, I find more things for the mouth pallete. A man selling honey tells me about his position as a sort of emergency manager for bees where he gets called all over the world to troubleshoot honey batch issues, ecological issues etc related to bees. Way cool, I say. I never knew that was a thing! I have already stocked on honey but I buy some tasty hot sauce from him.
Down the way are the pickle folk. They are generous with tastes and I probably could have just stood there all day eating their olives and pickles. We are doing Latkes and Jew-food when my mom arrives tonight and so I buy some kosher dills. I eat them all on a bench while waiting for Lauren.
Errands and other odds and ends before going back to the house where we begin preparation for a festive evening. Since Lauren’s parents are leaving tomorrow, we are combing our hannukah observance with a Chirsmas bonanza. Its a feast up in here! the kids are eager to see my mom also and are wondering when we go to pick her up. I explain that she is driving and they ask how she got a car on the plane?! My mom arrives in her rental car mid-cooking, Latkes on the griddle, Tofurkey and gravy and cranberry sauce….Thanksgiving all over again. Imani jumps to be the one to greet her and I try to insert myself to let her settle in without being dragged off by energetic children. While we finish cooking, she is led on a grand tour. Food cooked, tour toured, Jake arrives and we get ready to sit. Candle lighting is reserved for mom’s lead and we light the menorah before we all sit to dinner. There is an instant familial feeling between us all and gratitude is abound as we share thank-yous before eating. Raven wants to cover all of his bases and we have to cut him off as he searches around the table looking for more to be thankful for. Imani goes next and sums up a nice focus: “Food!”. After dinner, the night carries into the living room where the kids get presents and we share desert. Jake plays some beautiful medleys on his guitar as we enter into sleepy mind-states. Mom and I will be up and out early to head to the Keys!
December 19
It is a longer drive than we anticipated to get to the keys. I’m feeling a bit haggard, a bit stressed by my stomach and already battling my reactivity so I mostly remain quiet. We are both blown away by the abundance of odd, crane-like and pelican-like birds that we don’t get to see in our homes. No Crocs yet. We stop at a fancy whole foods that seems to have a much nicer food bar than I’ve ever seen and I get carried away with their olive selection. We arrive in Marathon Key around 4:30 where my mom wants to run into the dolphin research center to ask about a cut on her finger. She was informed by a friend who knew a friend who got sick after swimming with dolphins with an open cut. No one there knows anything about such a thing but she spends the next day and a half spending weird amounts of money to cover up this little sore in a way that will feel comfortable to her. Oh the quirks of others. It is a good thing we stop though, because we also realize that we may want to change our swim date with dolphins to Sunday on our way back up to Englewood. With the slow, winding highway between the keys, driving back and forth tomorrow would eat up half our day of vacation time.
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| I still can't get over this Christmas without snow thing |
We arrive at ‘The Artist House’ around 5:30 and get checked into our snug room at the top floor of a rickety set of outdoor stairs heading up from a back courtyard area where a few other Michganders are hanging out with drinks. Just finding our way through the traffic of Duval street to the front door was stressful enough for me and I hadn’t even been driving. I feel very aware of my selfish impatience as my mom gets all of the minuscule low-down on the place and recommendations for things we may or may not even want to consider doing over the next two days. I’m in my “can’t it wait” stage and she is in her “dazed new world” stage. They don’t mesh. Once we are at our restaurant though, the mood calms. We’re both pretty pumped about The Cafe menu and agree we could probably be satisfied eating here for weeks and never get sick of their options. We’re both eying the same dishes tonight and share the Mahi Mahi and the Falafel with Sweet Potato fries which is enough for tonight plus leftovers. Cider may not be a big thing down here but they don’t mess around with Sangria. All of their juices and Sangria mixes are made in-house and after a failed attempts at my drink of choice and many bothers to the waitress for tastes, I find perfection in their white sangria. The desserts are also tempting but we opt to walk around first, needing to digest and anxious to see the main drag.
Duval street reminds me a lot of Bourbon street in its pedestrian party-utopia atmosphere but the vibe is a bit more laid back and relaxed as opposed to the high-strung intensity of people yelling at you to throw mardi-gras beads or lift your shirt. The bars are flashy and the people are equally so but walking the streets themselves is leisurely and throws us into a pace of acceptance to whatever we stumble across.
I can’t remember what first draws us to the hole-in-the-wall Western bar but it is the first place we end up. I think it may have been the prospect of live entertainment but the singer is not spectacular and we end up being lured more by the sight of the mechanical bull riders. I’d never seen one and my mother had never even heard of the thing. I briefly contemplate seizing the moment and paying $5 to be hurled off a dangerous metal contraption but talk myself out of it quickly when mother notices pool tables in the back. We almost don’t stay - the bar is covered in photographs of scantily clad women sexing up the camera and my mother is suddenly terribly uncomfortable - but I convince her to move into a pool room with less imagery. I’m all in disagreement with the exploitation of women as sex symbols and if we were buying drinks here, perhaps I’d feel differently. But I’m going to pick and choose my battles and say that we are indulging in a culture down here where to bash one establishment so severely would be a gross double standard. I’m also in grey area. I don’t know those women or their values. I don’t know what the circumstances of that profession are for them. And I don’t know that the people that work here necessarily view women in a derogatory way. For one game of pool, that investigation is null and void for me.
Well, the game of pool is a bust. We both fail miserably. It is probably the worst game I’ve played in ages; since having skill-endowed streaks, those games become just a bit more painful. It is also inside and it is hot. We leave immediately after the last ball gets in (and I retrieve my phone I’ve managed to misplace) and continue our adventure.
We don’t have to go far. Across the street, I notice the bright aqua-colored glow of a bar called, well, Aqua. Underneath the awning, three over the-top ladies are dressed in holiday spirit soliciting for a show. “Oh my gosh! Mother, I think there’s a drag show tonight!” We go across the street to get details. The first show is in about 20 minutes and comes highly recommended from one of the performers. We take a moment to contemplate the idea of compromising our chance for the deserts back at The Cafe but in the end, it’s a no-brainer.
The show is incredible. Even with my understanding of drag, watching an entire 2 hours of these women simply stunned me. To be filled with that much enthusiasm and passion and to put yourself out there and to dance so exquisitely in such heavy (probably somewhat uncomfortable/delicate) costuming is such an inspiring talent to witness. Each performer had a distinct approach to their performances. There was an older woman who did only a couple of songs and kept much more low-key and “modest”. The host, Jessica, was just absolutely glamorous and did fun character sets from love-y sort of pop songs to full-out country and finally an encore with some amazing sets of moveable angel wings. She was very classy. On the other end of the spectrum was Inga. At first, I wasn’t sure what I thought but her sets got more and more hilarious every time. She was certainly the most provocative of the bunch, utilizing plenty of lude gestures. She had the most horribly wonderful song parodies on her playlist and the best thematic costumes. There was a jailbird set with songs like “can you take it in the ass?” and sets where the songs would allude to specific relationships and she would take the opportunity to pick on one special audience member.
The audience was also rather entertaining. It is so interesting to see who comes out to these places. We sat next to a fairly older woman and her young, young nephew from England. Across the way though, there were not one, but two bachelorette parties, both groups being first-timers to a drag show. That was a hilarious situation to watch because one had arrived slightly before the other, getting into the festive spirit and making themselves comfortable. The other party sat directly parallel to them and both bachelorettes had gotten the same exact sash and tiara. The entire time that both groups were there, the bachelorette that had arrived last was blatantly moody and uncomfortable and as soon as the other group left, she was cheery. Another odd observance was a couple of women that had snuck in mid-show and when I noticed them, one seemed to be encouraging her friend to lighten up and stick a dollar in a performers outfit. The friend was an ice cube. Her expression was completely unamused and her posture couldn’t have been more tense. They were gone when I looked a few minutes later.
We leave near the last couple of performances, both having fun but losing energy fast. On our way back to the bed and breakfast, we stop and listen to some outdoor music on a porch at Willie T’s where the band was doing some fun covers of 60’s-ish songs.
December 20
What a good idea to switch our Dolphin day. Today we have the whole day to wander and it turns out beautifully.
In the morning, I hunt down a coffee shop. Had I been hungry for breakfast lately, the place looks like they kick ass at that also. Help Yourself is an organic store, juice bar and cafe and I casually inquire with the personable cashier about living and working there. Places like Key West intrigue me. If I could be Dr. Who, part of my alter ego would love to live in a place with this social vibrancy and stimulation. But I know it wouldn’t sustain me, hence needing to be able to vanish to some other life here and there.
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| soaps |
I enjoy my coffee and meet mom back at the room where she has gotten some ideas for our day. Hemmingway house, wandering Duval, the beach, a glass-bottom reef boat ride and possibly a movie all make the list. The boat leaves at noon and sounds pretty rad so we work around that. Launching from the West end of Duval, we take the morning to wander in and out of shops and ogle fun art, kitchy art, mass-produced key-lime novelties and all that other fun stuff. And I get a nice pair of shades. We do get won over by the Naples Salt Company which offers us samples of their sea salt scrub, making the silky softness of my skin a constant reminder to get back there by the end of the day and make a purchase.
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| Amazing paintings on feathers! |
As the boat carries us out to the whopping 38 miles that make up the third largest Barrier Reef, our tour guide gives us a bit of Keys history. Apparently the area was used heavily in the civil war, not as a southern occupied area but a northern one. Fort Jefferson on the Dry Tortugas captured over 25 supply ships from the south, playing a major role in bringing an end to the war.
Out at the reef, its amazing how the creatures suddenly appear. In the middle of the ocean, this aquatic utopia is only 6 feet deep. Small striped fish called Sergeant Major Damsel Fish are in abundance. They look cute and harmless but our guide warns that they’ve been known to attack people! The females are take-charge-ers, building a nest and then leaving dad to attend to it 24/7. Other feisty fish we see are blue tangs, a type of Surgeon whose classification as such is apparently distinguished by razor sharp spines. But besides some jellyfish and a small shark, most else of what we see are corals. There is a lot of coral. It is explained that Coral comes in two types: soft and hard. The hard coral is formed by layering, taking the minerals from the ocean and making calcium carbonate. Soft coral on the other hand, does not create those thick deposits and tends to act and look a lot like see plants even though those only occur in Lagoon areas. Some coral is harmless while others, like fire coral can leave unpleasant lasting effects on the skin.
Facts and figures are all well and good but above all, water pulls me into a meditative state that I have yet to be able to bring myself to otherwise. The water in the reef was especially alluring, its bright translucent aquamarine and dancing plumes of coral silencing my body and mind. I dangled my feet over the edge of the overlook and lay my weight against the bar so I could just release and drift with the motion of the boat. On the ride back, I focus my gaze down on the surface of the water letting the surrealism of the liquid matter morph my perception until the environment is null and void and all that is before me are the shifts in light on this glass canvas.
We nix the hemming way house which I have brief displeasure about before realizing I’m not sure how important it actually was for me to begin with. Mother needs to get to the beach and I will never pass up being by the ocean so we begin to navigate to the state park that was pointed out to us from the boat deck. The walk is longer than we realize but certainly doable; everything in Key West is pedestrian friendly and within some sort of walking distance. Plus, this we are able to experience a couple quintessential tourist musts: The wild chickens of Key West and the signs for the beginning of the highway.
I am at a low, quiet energy from the boat ride already and when we arrive, the soft sand welcomes my body. I lay down, close my eyes and lose time. When i open them, mother is back from a walk, reading next to me. Sun will be going in an hour and we’ve been told the the place to be for that is Mallory Square back near the boat launch. The walk back doesn’t seem as long now that we know where we’re going.
the inland portion of Mallory Square is home to a host of museums - pirate, aquarium, shipwreck, art - which had we had more days, would be a must. But I’ve enjoyed a day of simply feeling a vacation and my brain is not in that space. Inland of the square, we also come across a glass blower who has an active workspace set up directly inside her booth. Susan is incredibly friendly and laid-back despite being in the midst of some complex looking glasswork the entire time we talk. She’d come down to the Keys for a few months during college and says “then I never left!” She goes on, saying she started out studying Marine Biology and I ask how she ended up blowing glass. Not only did she acquire that skill by hanging around Key West, but she also held a huge array of other jobs. “One thing I can say is that I have never been without work down here.” I’m always fascinated by these tales of people so easily shifting plans. I realize I am feeling similar sentiments about Florida. Obviously though, I’m not about to bale from AmeriCorps. But unsuspecting (and realistic, non-dr-who-y) thoughts of moving to the state have been creeping in…
Susan wins my mom over with her festive Pelican ornaments. The little birds are donning santa hats and mother gushes as Susan’s son wraps it and puts a nice ribbon on it for hanging.
She is about the only worthwhile interaction in the tiny inland cluster of novelty gifts and fried foods so we head onward towards the waterfront. There, street performers emerge from every direction, setting up marked-off rings for their acts and calling out spontaneous start times as crowds gravitate from one act to another. We catch the end of one man pulling off some exaggerated theatrics as he tries to escape from a Straight Jacket. Then we notice a man with a cart of twisted branches and colossal green coconuts hanging off them. He wields a machete and as we get closer, we realize he is passing them out left and right, first removing the top with vigorous, wild whacks from the intimidating tool and to let each person drink the fresh juice. Once done, they hand it back and he whacks it open to slide out the fresh flesh. We wait patiently, unsure of whether we’re supposed to ask, pay or just take one if he hands it our way. He sees us waiting and says in his thick island voice “One for coconut family!” We do our best to sip the juice without washing ourselves. He’s had juice flying every which way and passionately licks and devours whatever residual coconut product comes off in his whacking. The meat is what I’m excited for and it is tasty. I say thank you before remembering too late that his policy with the people we’ve watched has been “There are no thank yous! ONLY ‘’give me more coconut’’ or “I will be back for more coconut!” He says with a big smile. We throw money in his bag. With the last of the sun setting on an already cloudy backdrop, we catch a young man finishing a unicycle, fire-tossing act before leaving to figure out dinner. A few more dollars go his way and to some musicians that serenade our walk out. The attitudes of these street artists are much more positive than that of people I’ve tended to see vying for money in big cities and it makes it far more inviting to help them out.
We are between two places for dinner, both being back at the other end of Duval and so we begin the trek. Passing “the Smallest Bar in Key West” one more time, we pause and look at each other with the same expression that says “we should probably have a drink at the smallest bar.” Josh is much more inviting than the blaze attitude of the man here earlier that day and he gives us a great drink recommendation to find a balance of our tastes: essentially, blended fruit with rum. We’re compelled to stay and talk and find out that he actually moved from Pontiac, Michigan! Not only that, but he had been in grad school for psychology and had also been on the path to becoming a catholic priest; it was another story of impromptu turn of events. We tell Josh of our dinner options: going back to the Cafe or going to Ambrosia for Sushi and he insists we try something new, vouching for the quality of Ambrosia. The walk is about 20 minutes longer than our other option but we take the advice.
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| Josh |
It’s a good thing, too. Everything is delicious. I always get excited about Sushi because it is such an experience beyond just the plate. Here, the lighting is an ambient purply glow and we’re seated at a long cushioned bench which puts us in close quarters to other patrons. Just beyond our tables is a soft-lit counter with glass windows showcasing fresh ingredients. Chefs are hard at work behind the counter. We get a sewed salad, an eel roll and a the most complex veggie roll on the menu and I order a ginger-beer champaign. Our meal is perfectly satisfying to my tastes but it is a treat to be sitting so close to other customers. To our right, a couple orders an assortment that arrives on a stepped wooden pyramid, lit with glowing blues and purples. To our left, the diners adder some of the oddest non-sushi-fare, starting with a self-cook, raw meat set-up and following with a main course of exotic raw fish and a giant bowl of blue, glowing dry ice with something sitting on top.
Dessert is still highly anticipated from the night before and we go back to The Cafe in the hopes that their menu hasn’t changed. Sure enough, the vegan Key Lime Cheesecake and Vegan Carrot Cake is still offered and we go for both. We’re luck to be just a small duo of dessert diners because parties larger than two are being put on wait lists. Cake comes first. My mom is awed by the frosting on the cake since it is vegan and I berate her a bit about her skeptical commentary that she always offers up on the matter. I feel that many of the things I’ve made - especially the insanely decadent vegan raw Chocolate buttercream death cake of amazingness - has more than proven that it is not that complicated to make vegan mock-food taste great. I insist on arguing my point and then the cheesecake arrives and we move on, both deciding that it is our favorite and carefully watching the last of it get smaller and smaller until splitting down to the tiniest bite.
It is late and we’re both fairly tired but as soon as we step outside to head back to the room, I am taken by the music and nightlife bustle. While she runs into a store, I hang outside Willie T’s again. This time, a man named John LaMere is playing covers of things a la Dave Matthews and Queen. When she comes out, we both enjoy for a while.
There is one store I’d seen that struck my clothing weakness and I am hoping to get there before tiredness becomes undeniable. We are stopped a few stores before by another enticing shop and I try some things on. We’re thinking about going back but once I make it to the store I’d seen, there is no need. My material weakness is fed and I try to try on half the store before my mother’s depleted energy is call for quits. She treats to a pair of crazy pants and we get a set of Dolphin earrings to share between us and honor our experience to come tomorrow.
December 21
Looking at our hand-outs, we find out that the Dolphin Research center does not provide free towels for the immersion experience and so we have to leave early to go hunt down some cheap ones. We find a K-Mart when we enter Marathon Key and plan to make a quick stop inside. Apparently however, Sunday morning is the time that everyone has decided to do last minute gift-shopping at K-Mart. Lines up the wazzoo, mother asks a sweet looking woman if we can bi-pass her. She turns out to be the mother of an employee at the research center and is more than happy to let us though. Her conversation also makes the wait a lot less stressful, distracting from the fact that we should have been there 5 minutes ago. When we do arrive though, mother’s anxiety cannot be quelled and her nervousness about losing our spot gets a bit tense. Fortunately, they account for late arrivals and our 11:30 doesn’t start until noon.
Dolphins are quick medicine to dispel the tension. The instructors split our large group up into three and we each get on a small platform where we will be getting to know two Dolphins. Mother and I are grouped with two others and our trainer, Jennifer brings us down onto the platform to introduce us to Koyo and Luna, two young females who are still very much full of youth-full energy. They are beautiful and the relationship between Jennifer and the two creatures is even more so. Each interaction between them is treated like an interaction between mother and child, interspersed with her passionate anecdotes about their quirky tendencies and personality traits. Koyo, for instance does not like fish, is currently going through a “Boy craze” with the other dolphins, is picky about handshakes but loves kisses, and will very often do as she pleases.
Protocol talk complete, we are told to get in the water and I am the last to slide in, nervous about my lack of fortitude when it comes to cold. It’s certainly a shocker at first but I am surprised at how much my body is able to adjust. We begin with handshakes and kisses, lining up one at a time to learn the gestures as Jennifer sends them our way. Their skin is incredibly smooth, unlike any creature I’ve ever felt. It is soothing and clean. Apparently they shed a layer every couple of hours!
After the shakes and kisses, we move onto some tricks that they know. We are each assigned gestures for a command and again take turns. Their speed swim is ridiculous! They disappear under the water as they swim out and away and before we know it, are shooting back across the surface like a torpedo! They perform dives and spins and glides across the water. Jennifer talks about their preferences and we can tell that the enthusiasm spikes for certain activities. Finally, a swim. On our turn, we are instructed to go about half way out from the dock and Luna and Koyo swoop in on either side of us so that we can take hold of the base of their fin. They ride around as long and as fast as they please before delivering us back at the dock.
The entire session was all smiles. At no point did it ever feel like an attraction or an exploitation. These animals are truly cared for and treasured in relationships of equality and mutual respect. Jennifer explains that she was actually part of the first vocational program that the center has offered and talks about how hard it is to find jobs and how fortunate she is to be at such an ethical place.
The session also includes photographers as each station and afterwards, we are able to purchase a thumb drive of them all. Thoroughly satisfied, we nix the thought of trying to fit in a trip to the everglades and just begin the drive back to Lauren’s. We arrive late and stop by a solstice fire that she’d told us about. The fire is dying down and she isn’t there anyway but it is a beautiful sight to witness regardless. A quiet evening with her back at the house is just as enticing at this point.
December 22
It is mother’s last day in Florida, the sun is shining and Lauren owns a Kayak. The answer is simple. We must Kayak!
Mother and I spend the morning at the house with Raven while Lauren makes some headway at work. He and I have some time together in the morning and I am treated to some wonderful Raven-ations. When he arrives downstairs in his new batman PJ’s, he announces to me that they are “made of bear fur.”
“bear fur?”
“Yep. Black bear.”
“Have you ever felt bear fur?”
“No. My mom doesn’t like me going to animals that can kill me”
We get together some breakfast in the kitchen and I take down make a comment about his sea Monkey experiment on the window ledge. He decides it is time to clean and feed them.
“How many do you think there are?”
“I don’t know”
“Hmm..maybe fifty?”
“No, 26. I mean 99.”
“There might be”
“There are. Cause I counted in my head so…”
Other bursts are without any context at all. Sitting there, he decides to play a round of rock paper scissors with himself: “paper, rock. Rock Paper Scissors. Paper. Rock. I’m a Rock star! *air guitar*.
Around lunchtime, she is back home and we decide to make meal plans together before she drops the Kayak off at the water with us.
Lauren takes us to an inland series of Mangrove coves and niches. Supposedly, there is a way to get to open water but we don’t find it. The area is an endless maze of tributaries and non of the ones we choose ends up connecting, regardless, the afternoon is amazingly relaxing. The experience is much different from canoing in Michigan, down a river with a set course. I love the feeling of dipping in and out of these pockets. A few of the routes take us down quiet rivers that flow along residential backyards like little paradisiacal secrets. We see herons and storks of all types, and at least a sign for Manatee caution. It’s neat to think we are even in an area that shares the same space as a Manatee.
I am thoroughly relaxed. There are moments on the Kayak where we just drift. My senses tangle together as I close my eyes and float in moment. Just the moment. I feel words and rhythms that I haven’t felt in ages, a tickling of inspirations and calm. When we return and drive off, I realize I am humming “return again”. This may be the home that I need right now.
For the last night with mother, we have a cooking and movie date planed with Lauren and her friend Chellie so we stop at the store for supplies and refreshments. Preparing dinner with a group of women is a fun anomaly to my life lately and we enjoy sips of cider as we go. After the meal, Chellie decides to go home and the three of us head out to see ‘Wild’. Mother and I had listened to the book on our journey home last summer so we were eager to see what they did with it. It was good, even though a lot of extra characters had to be left out. They captured the intensity of Cheryl Strayed’s personality and the feat she embarked on. There was some great grit to the film so it didn’t feel too polished and “Hollywood”.
And now, a shift. Good byes and thoughts:
December 23
I wasn’t expecting to pause at the door. We’d said our goodbyes and exchanged long, smiling hugs both inside and out by the car. Just before she awoke, I’d been taking stock of all of the reflection and writing and planning I’d set aside that I would finally get to once visiting was over. I imagined a hug and a wave would do the trick and that I would quickly be back inside tackling this nagging agenda. I reached for the door handle as she began to pull away and then I froze. My throat was choking even before my face flowed wet with tears. I wanted to run back out and give another hug but I thought better of it, not wanting to be a cause of a missed flight or stressful drive to arrive in time. “So, I imagine that wherever you end up…you’ll want help moving. So we’d see you sometime again in the summer. Is that accurate?” I sort of shrugged. I imagined myself disowning enough of my Washington belongings to travel wherever (oh, Florida…) cross-country with one car…maybe a small moving trailer. Then she put up the suggestion of an April visit on either side of the spring break. I liked the idea but as she backed out of the drive, I realized I hadn’t conveyed much enthusiasm. I felt worse.
I sat on the porch with my tears for a few minutes once her car was well out of view down the road. Unfinished mother-daughter work is deep. Every time we have these small visits, I end up with a hurried handful of last moments to gather my reflections and realize how much of our short time I’ve spent more reactionary, more silent and more closed off than I would like. We’ve gotten much better over the years but by last night, I was still noticing and beginning to shame myself for the things handled without grace or the battles I should maybe have left un-battled.
It is a horrible thing, but Lauren felt like my buffer. For all of those moments that would have been tense or that I would have been melancholy, Lauren was there with her unconditional positivity to make the trip feel worth it for my mom. I am endlessly grateful for her energy and I learn so much from it. But in reflection, it made me feel like I could have done so much better.
Last night, feelings of calm contemplation suddenly changed into feelings of sorrow nostalgia. I’d been quiet since we’d returned from seeing the movie ‘Wild’ and as everyone bustled to get ready for bed, I just lay on the couch and then on the bed, thinking. In these moments, the sorrow becomes heightened for me because I feel something strong that I can’t articulate so I want my mother to just be bluntly inquisitive. But that isn’t her. So it usually becomes a slight noticing but ignoring of my solitude or in this case, beat-around-the bush comments about being tired and finally “is there anything you want to talk about on my last night here?”
She climbed into bed and not knowing what else to do, I just curled up on her lap. And began to cry silently. After some moments of consolment, she simply asked “are there any words to go with those tears?”
I hated the distance. I hated the way I just removed myself from interaction when our habits of communication were to exhausting for me. Or when I didn’t remove myself and reacted instead. I hated how I was either too opinionated in my values and judged her for being distant from them or I was too scared of being strong in my values because I didn’t want her judgement. I hated that more and more so, I just wanted to keep my plans and inspirations quietly to myself because I didn’t want to give her more territory to impose advice or inquiry on simply because how she went about it annoyed me. I hated when it felt like she wasn’t really listening to me or when I wasn’t really listening to her or when she was distracted by what I considered trivial thoughts and all of these ways we just weren’t on the same level and when i noticed that vicious cycle but wasn’t the stronger person to break it.
“Our communication styles and values are so different sometimes and it makes me really sad.”
Sometimes, it is just so much clearer to talk like a 5 year-old.
“When did you feel that way today?”
“Not today necessarily, just in general”
“Can you give me some examples? Or you’re just sad because you notice that difference?”
I nodded.
“well, we are different in a lot of ways.”
I curled up more. I loved her acceptance when I finally opened about how bad I feel but it made me feel so immature. She asked again for examples but i didn’t know what to go into. “I can’t articulate right now.”
we left it there. Hugged a lot. Said goodnight.
This morning, she brought it up. Even though I couldn’t give examples, what she said meant a lot. “I want you to keep in mind where I came from. I’ll have to dig out a video of my mother sometime. I mean, you’ve met the Kormans; they’re big people, big energy.” She explained how interactions with her mother were not healthy and how it took so much of her life to get to be who she really is at the core. And even though she’d done work, when she had me it brought about so much unfinished stuff that she had to keep navigating those interactions with me. She thanked me for helping her re-frame those. And reframe a lot. About how she views people, and the world and lifestyles. And she praised my ability to come across these things so soon and that it was a beautiful generational thing to see those waves of negative influence dissipate over each generation. And how she probably wouldn’t have learned as much without me.
It was beautiful.
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| light and shadow |
After the departure, I craved sister time with Lauren. It worked out that she had to go out of town for work today and when I came along for the ride, we had a nice long time to bond over family and mothers and communication. Being here with my soul sister has expanded my understanding for how much deep work I have the potential to do…and I have formed a vision of clarity in my mind where Florida is the foundation for a healing space. It is not a settled decision, but a viable option at the moment. And a surprising one at that, because I never thought that I would like Florida. Its a scary big thought for a move and there really isn’t much time to decide at this point…its a big shift from the directions I’d been contemplating…but if she is open to helping me figure out how it could work…it is feeling more and more right.
