Telling True Stories

When I relinquished custody of my three daughters last May, my mom tried to help ease the pain of that by telling this story: I was a great mom to my three adopted daughters for the four years I was living with them. I helped them learn American culture and loved them well for those four years. But now, because I was giving up physical custody, the story went, I could just be their great friend, like a super supportive aunt. I could be someone off on the side, who still loves them, but can't really be their mom anymore. Well. There was some comfort in that story. And maybe believing that story some is how I managed to not collapse when I actually moved out, it was how I survived the summer.

But it's not true. At all. Being someone's mom doesn't just change into being a nice person on the side. My feelings for them and their feelings for me, at the base of everything, are still all about mother-child love bonds. And telling a more true story, while super painful, is what all four of us need. We love each other fiercely and need those true and loving feelings to be welcomed back into our bruised hearts. There is real, and sometimes overwhelming pain in acknowledging that I'm separated from the beautiful people who are still my children. It aches the most when I come home to my empty apartment after dropping them off at their empty house. But there's also this joyful truth: they are still my children and I am still their mom. A different way of being a mom? Sure. Sure. But people get divorced all the time, and we just figure out how to still be the best parents we can for our children who deserve no less.

Poetry In the Class, Episode 2

Poetry in the Classroom, Episode 1

Mayda del Valle, performance poet exrtrordinairre

Fall Gratitudes

1. peaches
2. fresh corn
3. my handful of good, true, close friends
4. cousins
5. live jazz music
6. street festivals
7. toys
8. books
9. students
10. prime numbers
11. chocolate
12. strawberries
13. mountains
14. yogurt
15. my three loving daughters
16. US divorce laws
17. perfect temperatures
18. my apartment
19. my siblings
20. my parents
21. the internet
22. faith
23. grace
24. coffee
25. toothpaste
26. cold, clean water
27. clean clothes to wear
28. waffles
29. movies
30. multi player online video games
31. new hair cut
32. poetry
33. trains
34. boys and men in general
35. avocados
36. nice and funny co-workers
37. iphone
38. freedom
39. sunsets
40. hot baths
41. dumb jokes
42. beer
43. text messaging
44. imagination
45. girls and women in general
46. toe nail clippers
47. microwave oven
48. lotion
49. square numbers
50. self-awareness

The Hour I First Believed

Dear Wally,

On April 14 2008, in the afterword of your latest novel you wrote, "Having affixed its last period to its final sentence, I now release it to my readers and invite them to find in it whatever they want or need to find."

Thank you for this story.  I'm glad I found it.  I have always been a very voracious reader, but for the past ten months I haven't been able to sit still enough to read much.  Stress and sadness and fear and adrenaline made my mind too jittery.  But Caelum Quirk, that flawed and fabulous character, reeled me into his life and held me there for 700 pages.  

"Books teach us how to live our lives."  Indeed.  That's a quote from a conference I once attended for teachers who believe in books.  And so what have I learned from this story?  To look for and to honor the dignity in each student, in each human.  To trust that the view from above makes this messy labyrinth less ugly and more holy.   To remember that hope and love are not only stronger and more powerful than hate and fear, they also require far more courage.  

A story this good was exactly the medicine I needed to restore my reading habit.  Thank you.

Fields of Sunflowers

I hiked and biked to the top of Deseret Peak in the mountains west of Salt Lake City this morning. The main road up to the trail is closed so the whole thing was about 11 miles round trip. I biked about three of that and hiked the rest.

I've been making a big transition in the last few weeks. I'm living alone in a one bedroom apartment. I get to see my three daughters sometimes, but not regularly. I'm not sure of the exact day, but I believe I am "officially" divorced now. I really miss my family. There were deep and serious enough issues with my ex that I don't feel much loss there, but we did our best to love each other and now I am 100 percent on my own. Our poor efforts at love were at least something. And my girls, I miss them like crazy. I definitely get sad and a little depressed sometimes and yesterday I was fighting those serpents extra hard.

Hiking is my very reliable way to find both literal and spiritual sunshine. Yes, I am one of *those* crazy women who talks straight to god and believe that he talks right back. So on the trail today I'm whining about not being loved. And then I start noticing some things. Like the scent of the dry pine needles when they are getting smooshed into the spongy, snowy ground. And in the open fields there were these little white butterflies that kept on firecracking up out of the ground as I walked by. They made each open meadow feel like being inside of a well-shaken butterfly snow globe.

And the sunflowers.

I have a good friend whose family has land in Kentucky and I told him once that it'd be cool if he planted me a whole field of sunflowers. Well, right there on the mountainside today, god gave me not just one, but seven, SEVEN, fields of glorious, bright yellow sunflowers. Just blaring their sunflower selves into new shades of van gough brilliance.

And if that mountain and my body's ability to enjoy it so well isn't love, well, what the fuck is? God started laughing when I finally noticed those fields of sunflowers. He was all, "not loved????!! darlin, your capillaries are filling each cell of your body with delicious mountain oxygen and you are looking straight at your very own sunflower fantasy/dream made real, and okay, yes, you can't see past the next bend in the trail. true. but stop straining to look so far ahead and look at what's right in front of you, and all around you, and even right inside you."

Sigh. Deep breath. My gratitude list today is far longer than usual and those tears today---both times---all joy, all love, all grace.

Gratitude List

Big huge life change comin up next weekend. My almost ex is moving back into our house to be the sole physical guardian of our 3 daughters and I'm moving to my parents to recover for a few weeks. Given a whole lot of things that cannot change, this is the arrangement that is going to be best for my girls, which is all I've ever wanted out of this mess. So, on the one hand, this is good news. But it's really sad and I get angry about it too--not really at a particular person anymore---just at the whole situation.

But life goes on and there are plenty of things to look forward to and still be grateful for.

1. my life is like a brand new canvass
2. i get to enjoy a few weeks in the snug, protective shelter of the Donkey Ranch
3. time and freedom to climb and camp all summer
4. my girls will become more independent
5. the awful fight of this divorce is over and we all have peaceful hearts again
6. i'll be roommates with my baby bro for a few weeks
7. time to read and write more
8. a lot less yard work, house work, laundry, and grocery shopping
9. i'll have a lot of empathy and common ground with all those child-support payin dads out there
10. the love my girls and i feel for each other might be in some ways stronger when it keeps us connected even though we're no longer together.

Truth is, this is very painful and sad. Truth is, I'll be okay.