Six months ago, I was drowning in grief and anger, intensified exponentially by family betrayals. I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of caring for The Daddler. Keeping my promises to my mother. Bearing the brunt of his pain. Finding the strength to understand that he lashed out at me because I was safe. Like a toddler with his mother.
But here I am. I've survived. Thrived, even. Surprised myself with how strong I am. I wouldn't have dreamed I could manage this daunting responsibility. When I feel like giving up, I remember Mother. Holding her in my arms. She became my child and I, her mother. I told her not to cry. That I'd take care of her. And Daddy. Not to worry. It would be ok. I would see to it.
And I have.
Finally, I'm finding time for myself. Getting some balance in my life. Fresh back from a wonderful trip to Boston.
Speaking of balance reminds me of something. Wednesday, FF and I visited the USS Constitution Museum. We were two happy guinea pigs for a prototype of an interactive game. It involved stacking wooden blocks on a small model ship suspended from strings. The goal was to stack the blocks on the deck, keep it balanced and not tip it over. Now, Mr. Man and I are extremely competitive. We're constantly playing one-upmanship with each other. I think I surprise him when I hold my own. He's really, really smart.
We took turns carefully and strategically placing the blocks when I had the brilliant idea of making a wager. Loser buys lunch. Then it got really fun. Of course, right after that, I tipped the boat, the blocks fell off, and I lost the bet, but he does have the advantage of being a sailor. So we spouted ideas to the two sweet interns (did you know there's a graduate program in Museum Studies?), and I started stacking the blocks. On the table this time, not the tipsy ship. I got no fewer than 25 stacked, then dared FF to put the little wooden man on top without tipping. He tried. But no cigar. Unfortunately, I didn't think to challenge him to double or nothing. Not that he'd have gone for it.
It reminded me of Kiddo's toddler years. I'd stack wooden blocks and he'd knock them down. He never got tired of this. Even with all his elaborate toys, the bright wooden blocks were the best.
Playing like kids was just what we needed. So much togetherness after so much apartness (550 miles worth), was too much at times. We'd had a rough patch and decided to put it aside and enjoy the last day of our trip. Which turned out to be the best. We're still just getting to know each other. Slowly and carefully. Which is not a bad thing. I'm still healing, with a very long way to go. But I think this thing with Dude is speeding up the process a little. Or a lot. Still, it's scary. Complicated. Exciting, frustrating, challenging, crazy-making. Uncharted territory for both of us, I think. We're so much alike, but at the same time, incredibly different.
But whatever happens, I'm better for it. I hope he feels the same way.
So here I sit. Missing that man more than I'd like to admit. But I'm settling in, facing mountains of laundry and emails and paper. Enjoying The Daddler, Kiddo and Bulimic Cat. My Enchanted Aerie. My books and magazines. My guitar and computer. All the comforts of home.
No comments:
Post a Comment