Friday morning I introduce my youngest to Waffle House, that fine dining establishment with its bottomless coffee and (mostly) 24-hour service that has given birth to many to many overwrought teen poets, including myself. Case in point?
Later, we head south through a myriad of pork-barrel construction and incredibly aggressive driving. And weirdly unnecessary automobiles like this Envogue Range Rover convertible that almost incited me to violence. Cincinnati is definitely a city but truly maintains its small town spirit. I am fond of it as much as I feel it suffocates my spirit slightly.
We're barely in the membership queue at the Zoo when my friend L starts to cackle. 'I know you from when you were a baby,' she says to the startled membership desk staff. 'And I know your dad.'
'Adam?! My dad??'
'Yep. I'm married to Dan who used to live with him.'
'No way!!''
It really is a world of weird and wondrous coincidence.
The day gets better when my tried-and-trusted builders deliver on the necessary bathroom repairs. And my raised beds. And new flooring and toilets for the upstairs bathrooms.
We also exchanged on a client's house today. Ever closer to my 44th Birthday Princess Party. Ever closer. Like I need an excuse to wear an evening gown.
It it weren't for all of this insanity, who knows when I would've gotten to see my 2nd cousins and my fave cousin-law, to catch up on family truths and dispel the myths. It was a bit sad- making but also liberating and it reminds me deeply that it is the sisterhood that will carry me through this portion of the rafting journey I don't remember signing up for in that womb contract almost 44 years ago.
Yesterday, a New Moon on the horizon, I am almost wondered what the Universe had in store. Apparently, it was an argument with an unstable, dangerous person that has made it unsafe to even contemplate staying overnight there with the children. Throw in the missing handgun and well...yeah.
There is shouting. Terrible words are said. Neither of us behave well. But the intent...that's what I don't wan to shout; I know when I am being deliberately provoked. What eats at me is that I don't understand why. Why ask for my help or advice, then ignore what you're given, then blame everyone but yourself when it blows up?
The situation was convulaluted and challenging even before Methamphetamine moved into the picture. The argument is emotional and triggering for both of us and I'm amazed it only took 15 days. The woman in question left my father to die on the floor of his house, whilst sending her 5 year old over to steal his cigarettes and see if 'Grandpa was breathing.'
The part of me that believes that every human being is capable of positive change, that believes in redemption doesn't know how to deal with any of this. And it hurts because I know but for a few swift turns and gut-check moments, my life would be quite similar to this train wreck. In a weird way, my father issues, particularly my belief in people's potential and that most people are essentially good at their core, has served me well, because it has kept me buoyant. But this? Is this is just tragic. It's laughable in the sense that it is too horrific to be real but it couldn't be more real. Real time, right in my face, unavoidable. But not my mess. The lines of demarcation are clear and I'm not about to veer off into a briar patch laced with claymores. That was 23 year old me. I've got very different hell to raise these days.
This evening, we swam then sat outside, soaking up the late summer calm. The kids played with new friends whilst the father, a neurologist originally from Ghana, who had trained in London and Edinburgh and I bonded over what a well-kept secret Vauxhall used to be. The kids played Silent Hedgehogs and at one point I notice him watching the Sandman with quiet interest. 'Your son is very...determined,' he said casually but carefully.
'Oh, do you mean his autism? It's mild, I said, but it is clearly there.'
'Yes, this. I can see it clearly but I didn't want to comment.'
'It's not something we keep a secret or are ashamed of,' I said, smiling as the Sandman came bounding out of the lobby, excited to have finished the activity. 'High five, little dude! You did it!'
The doctor and I exchange smiles and he nods, still thoughtful. We agree the kids can stay up and play a bit but that the youngest and I will excuse ourselves. And it is such a relief to what I have felt all day, to feel understood and accepted without having to explain or justify, that I know I'll sleep better for that singular moment of connection.
In the meantime, it does feel a bit like a certain summer.
https://open.spotify.com/track/460Wn6Dq2uMviG5nPXtPnb?si=4fzCYujUTy2nCtKCv02zaw&utm_source=copy-link&dl_branch=1
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