Last night I attended a Dias de los Muertos get together at a friend's house.
Before I left, I placed some hard candy and a prayer card with the image of Saint Anthony of Padua on the back next to my mom's ashes. Lately, I have been talking to her often. I am finding myself letting go of the bad parts of our relationship and trying to keep the good up at the surface where I can grab it when I need it. I find that my laugh sounds just like hers. Before violence and despair moved into our home, she used to laugh so much. And even in her days filled with sadness I know she loved me in the only way her mind would allow.
I drove to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for appetizers. Wild mushroom tapenade with fresh sage and a baked brie with cranberries and walnuts. Cooking allows me to turn in on myself. It is one of the few things I can truly concentrate on to the point where I loose my sense of time and place. It is what I expect people who meditate feel.
Sometime well into the party, while commenting on how lovely my hosts' house was, I noticed a small, metal, red and white tray on the top shelf in their kitchen. The tray was decorated with a carousel scene. And even though it has been 22 years since I saw it, I recognized that tray from my childhood. I didn't even have to see it to know that there are two metal legs that fold out on either side to create a little table just high enough for kindergarten legs to fit under.
And I had to fight back tears. I have never been one to quietly react to sentamentality. Unexpected reminders hit me hard and my childhood self pushes back just as strong until I can feel her clawing out through my throat. I silently stared at that tray throughout the night.
Today, at brunch with Jake, I told him about the tray. The story somehow moved into an anecdote about how, as a young child, I would set up a series of 10 coffee mugs in our hall and practice tossing ping pong balls into them because I knew, one day, I would make it on the Bozo Show and would have to display my skills at the Grand Prize Game. There was a Carvel Ice Cream cake and a new bike at stake.
I wonder where I keep these memories when I'm not using them. I wonder if they strain to break out constantly and thats why they hurt a little when they succeed.
I somehow stumbled upon youtube video's of the Rock-afire Explosion shows from Showbiz Pizza. I turned 5 there. David Rodriguez came to the party. He was the boy I played "Return of the Jedi" with. I was always Leia. He was my Luke. I always felt it was a special occasion when they let Rolfe deWolfe do a song as he was so rarely seen. I was there so often I knew every characters set list.
There is some reason all these memories are happening now. I just wish I knew why.
Before I left, I placed some hard candy and a prayer card with the image of Saint Anthony of Padua on the back next to my mom's ashes. Lately, I have been talking to her often. I am finding myself letting go of the bad parts of our relationship and trying to keep the good up at the surface where I can grab it when I need it. I find that my laugh sounds just like hers. Before violence and despair moved into our home, she used to laugh so much. And even in her days filled with sadness I know she loved me in the only way her mind would allow.
I drove to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for appetizers. Wild mushroom tapenade with fresh sage and a baked brie with cranberries and walnuts. Cooking allows me to turn in on myself. It is one of the few things I can truly concentrate on to the point where I loose my sense of time and place. It is what I expect people who meditate feel.
Sometime well into the party, while commenting on how lovely my hosts' house was, I noticed a small, metal, red and white tray on the top shelf in their kitchen. The tray was decorated with a carousel scene. And even though it has been 22 years since I saw it, I recognized that tray from my childhood. I didn't even have to see it to know that there are two metal legs that fold out on either side to create a little table just high enough for kindergarten legs to fit under.
And I had to fight back tears. I have never been one to quietly react to sentamentality. Unexpected reminders hit me hard and my childhood self pushes back just as strong until I can feel her clawing out through my throat. I silently stared at that tray throughout the night.
Today, at brunch with Jake, I told him about the tray. The story somehow moved into an anecdote about how, as a young child, I would set up a series of 10 coffee mugs in our hall and practice tossing ping pong balls into them because I knew, one day, I would make it on the Bozo Show and would have to display my skills at the Grand Prize Game. There was a Carvel Ice Cream cake and a new bike at stake.
I wonder where I keep these memories when I'm not using them. I wonder if they strain to break out constantly and thats why they hurt a little when they succeed.
I somehow stumbled upon youtube video's of the Rock-afire Explosion shows from Showbiz Pizza. I turned 5 there. David Rodriguez came to the party. He was the boy I played "Return of the Jedi" with. I was always Leia. He was my Luke. I always felt it was a special occasion when they let Rolfe deWolfe do a song as he was so rarely seen. I was there so often I knew every characters set list.
There is some reason all these memories are happening now. I just wish I knew why.
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I'm going to go take a valium.
J was like, "What are you doing? I was like, "Buying a bassinet." He was all, "We don't have a baby yet, babe." I said, "I know, but we can keep the cats in there until we do." He said, "That's some crazy cat lady shit right there, babe."