red
this post is for the writing prompt at studio 30 + where i am currently navigating the waters and dabbling back into fiction, which i haven’t done for a while… and it feels kinda nice.
this week’s prompt was RED.
leaving her mother’s, she gained this intense combination of feeling both alive and petrified at the same moment. she pulled back the sliding glass door, stepped on the snow that covered the back deck, and quietly closed the door behind her.
regardless of the number of times she has snuck out of her mother’s house, the same thrill of leaving along with the fear of getting caught resonated in deeply within her body, and it was as though she had woken up from an exquisite night’s sleep.
the bitter cold may have had something to do with her awakening as well.
pulling her winter coat around her tiny frame, she adjusted her satchel and began her walk. only a half mile until she reached her destination, but it was freezing out. even still, she couldn’t risk taking her own car. the noise of simply starting it would wake her mother.
it was only half after 3 in the afternoon and already her mother had been passed out for almost an hour. as per usual, she checked that her mom was still breathing and wasn’t holding a lit cigarette before she snuck out the sliding glass door.
while she walked, she thought of the cigarettes… how many were lit… how many had burnt holes in the carpet, the couch, clothing. she thought of the empty bottles of smirnoff and those fucking red labels that just screamed “ATTENTION ATTENTION, I AM A CHEAP THRILL.”
her speed quickened as she felt herself grow more and more angry. resentful. disgusted.
beyond the 4-way stop, she saw the gas station and the brake lights on the truck.
her destination. for the next 2 hours she would be free.
she smiled.
the passenger side door was unlocked. she tossed her satchel in the back seat, hopped in the front, and put on her seat belt.
the driver, a 42 year old man, nodded his head at her and gave her a soft smile. there was shame in his eyes. embarrassment.
looking at him, her heart softened and she reached into the back seat to retrieve her satchel.
she pulled out the workbook, red letters on the cover, spelling out “3rd grade mathematics.”
with the workbook in her lap, she reached over and gently placed her hand on top of his.
“let’s get to work,” she said assuredly.
he put the truck in drive and turned left out of the gas station, towards the public library.
ditching the rat race
i’m achy this morning.
i’m tired, always tired. stress and anxiety have gotten the best of me lately.
(i hate admitting that but it’s true.)
(i hate feeling like a prisoner to anxiety, but that’s where i am right now.)
my muscles are sore from tension.
i look at my to-do list and want to cry because it seems so daunting.
the most menial of tasks overwhelms me when i’m struggling.
i look out the bedroom window and it’s another grey day, blanketed by clouds, icy and cold.
like yesterday… and the day before that…
i turn more lights on throughout the apartment to trick my mind into thinking it’s not that dark.
somedays it works better than others.
something requires my attention, usually undivided attention.
when was the last time i gave anything my undivided attention?
i’m achy this morning. achy in my body and achy in my heart.
i sip some coffee, read through some emails (choose to ignore a few.)
and then i come across a picture that i took last night…
i was watching a movie with jackson… about construction sites, a current obsession.
i snapped a quick shot of him watching.
**********
i want to relish in my son’s eyes and perspective.
and give his lashes my undivided attention.
sometimes i require advanced notification
yesterday i sat in a coffee shop and wrote. i do this every MWF of the week, while jackson plays at school just a half a mile away for a couple of hours.
it was enjoyable, quiet, peaceful. it was filled with caffeinated beverages and baked goods. cream cheese and whip cream for those who chose to indulge.
since jackson has been school age, i’ve come to enjoy our routine that leads to this precious time at the coffee shop and allows me to write and think with a clear head. sure, i can write at home and during nap time (and i do), but any parent out there will tell you how important it is to have time away… time for you.
as my first hour ended, i watched a woman come through the doors of the coffee shop with a cello. a HUGE and beautiful instrument that i assumed was to be shared in the quiet corner of the coffee shop while patrons smiled as the music of a strings flowed into our ears.
i nodded my head at her, a simple greeting, as i squelched back the desire to walk up to her and exclaim, “CELLO!”
shortly after, another woman walked in with a bongo.
and then a man followed her with flyers and a tip jar.
slowly a band was forming.
i continued to assume that it would be quiet, coffee shopish tunes that i would hear once they set up and began to play.
i was so damn wrong.
as the group adjusted their instruments, tested them out, enjoyed free coffee from the baristas, moms and dads and itty bitty little ones began to collect in the coffee house, in front of the fire place.
the musicians were there to have a baby music hour in the middle of the coffee shop.
at first i didn’t think much of it because not a lot of people were there to enjoy it. but as any parent knows, kids will cause you to run late for activities. and so as the songs continued, more people collected.
more crying babies. more songs. and then… more instruments. tambourines were passed around. shakers for the little ones to use were shared.
i offered the chair i sat on to a mom who frantically looked for a place to rest and moved to a table in the back, next to the bathroom.
by the time the everyone had congregated and the musicians were on verse 2 of “the wheels on the bus,” i started to get angry. i felt like i deserved a heads up that this was going to happen in my haven. my few hours of solace every MWF had been tainted by NOISE.
and oh the noise… the music was one thing, but the crying babies who demanded to be fed, the shouts across the shop for one friend to grab another friend a small milk because they had forgotten theirs, the damn tambourine…
mind you, when we moved here 2 years ago, i yearned to find little outings for jackson and i like the one i witnessed yesterday. i bundled up a wee magoo and went to the public library for story hour (complete with bubbles) and relished in the knowledge that every so often, i could count on taking my kidlet somewhere OUT OF THE HOUSE and be around others who looked to do the same.
but yesterday morning, i was pissed. i didn’t have enough time to venture to another coffee shop before having to pick jackson up from school. i couldn’t escape the noise even with ear buds in my ears and itunes blasting and the toilet flushing (since i was next to the bathroom).
once you become a parent, you’re ALWAYS a parent. you watch others with their kids. you find yourself smiling at sweet faces of newborns. you stand in line at target and sway back and forth even though you ventured to target sans baby. you watch a mom or dad who has multiples and wonder how they do it when you only have one kid and can barely keep your head above water (ok maybe not you, but i do).
you can’t undo being a parent in the same way that you can’t unsee something. it’s there. embedded in your brain.
and so watching these parents and little ones congregate yesterday in the coffee shop was beyond disruptive. my brief escape from parenthood was replaced with babies and rattles and “twinkle twinkle little star” and odors of shit-filled diapers wafting through the air.
i packed up my things and climbed over blankies and diaper bags and teeny bodies that sat on the floor.
then i asked the owner of the shop, kate, in a whispered tone, “is this going to become ‘a thing?’” she looked frazzled as she prepped vanilla nonfat lattes and chai teas.
“no,” she mouthed back to me.
and i was relieved… dammit, i need my break time.
because now, as i sit at home and write this post and recall what yesterday morning was like, jackson is sitting behind me, on the couch cushions, and wrapping his arms around my neck… but not in a loving, “i just want to be close to you” sort of way.
he’s suffocating me.
life (as a project)
i wasn’t really sure how to begin a new year in this space.
it feels as though i need to acknowledge the passing of a year, the promise of potential.
i have enjoyed reading blog posts that recapped 2010, shared pictures, thanked readers, and set goals for the coming year.
it just never dawned on me to write one myself.
i suppose i figured that i’d keep writing and posting when i had something to say or share. just keep on keepin’ on. one foot in front of the other.
i was on skype with a friend of mine a few evenings ago, and while our little ones said hello to each other, she and i talked.
we simply shared.
connecting with my friend was so needed and long overdue. (isn’t that always the case?) discussing hardships while my little one and her little one kept us giggling.
she listened to me and i listened to her.
we shared life.
once we signed off, life kept going. we kept moving. there were things to be done.
and that’s when i started to envision life as a project.
big projects and small ones. ongoing projects and ones that get accomplished. partnerships and collaboration. silence while writing just for oneself.
and then i decided that more than anything else, that was what i wanted to share with you… the idea of life as a project.
trial and error. success and failures.
consistent learning.
and renewal.
i have no earth shattering resolutions for 2011. no big goals. there are new things being presented to me daily, and i want to revel in that.
be present.
trusting myself.
i turn 30 this year and i’m excited for it. i’m anxious to grow as an individual, a wife, a mother, a writer.
a woman.
but i want to make an effort to soak it in, taking experiences, mistakes, journeys, and making it mine.
i find myself encouraged when i think about life as a project. some projects smaller than others. some projects overwhelmingly large and intimidating.
all meaningful.
but i want to keep trying for more. because what are we when we’re not working towards something? what does it say about us when we stop trying for more?
what if our goal, our project, were to simply be forward movement?
i am a project… a constant work in progress. a piece of the puzzle.
a life.
and perhaps if i adjust my lens a bit, take in a little more at times and a little less at other times, maybe i can impact others. maybe i can open myself to being impacted by others.
say “yes” when ready, and “no” when ready for a break.
all the while, continuing to learn.
and being grateful you are here with me.
in appreciation for coping mechanisms
i remember riding carpool to school each morning and there being one mother who drove carpool who always put her makeup on in the car.
at the time, being the age of a 3rd grader with the infinite wisdom that comes with being in elementary school, i can remember myself watching from the back seat of this woman’s volvo and thinking “she has no time to do her makeup at home?”
it was unusual for 3rd grade me to imagine my mom doing her makeup and readying herself for the day anywhere other than her bathroom.
i’ve carried that with me over the years, though i never realized it until this morning, as i walked jackson down to the car holding his little hand in mine… and in the other hand, carrying my makeup case.
i work better when i’m showered and dressed for the day (yes, this includes makeup). i function better, i feel like i serve my purpose with a bit more strength and umpf. i tackle my day with the some gusto when i’m armed in something more than pajama pants.
now don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of days for pajama pants, or no pants for that matter. but for me, i cope better with the day-to-day happenings of life and parenthood when i treat it for what it is… a job.
so this morning, being a school day for jackson, i prepared myself for work. but i was dragging. really REALLY dragging. jackson and i have battled a cold for 2 solid weeks and this week, my cold manifested itself into a sinus infection and made me its bitch.
it was one of those mornings where my head was so congested that i had to sit on the toilet seat to blow dry my hair. i needed a break from standing.
(this is also why we need a double vanity with those lovely cushioned seats that you see the women in soap operas resting their bums on as they daintily apply rouge.)
needless to say, i knew i wouldn’t be able to tackle makeup and get jackson to school on time without taking more than like 4 breaks.
jackson came in to find me in the bathroom, bringing me my boots, very excited to be going back to school after missing a week for being sick, and i did what i never thought i would do…
i grabbed my makeup bag to take with me in the car.
i applied makeup at stop lights (only the red ones) and i must say that i did a decent job playing car-makeup-applier-person. i had anticipated losing an eye or mistaking my lipstick for powder.
and as i readied myself for the day in my car, my mind started to wonder about coping mechanisms and how people make it through their day, everyday.
it’s not easy. life is hard. jobs are a struggle. relationships take work. parenting is difficult. (fill in the blank with your agonizing adjective.)
there was a girl who lived on the same hall as me, my freshman year in college who always carried a funsized pack of m&ms in her pocket. i didn’t know her well since she lived on the other side of the hall from me, but we had a couple of 101 classes together and over time, i took note of the funsized m&ms.
i can only surmise that the pack of m&ms she kept in her pocket was her coping mechanism… or she was diabetic.
my coping mechanism is putting myself together as much as possible every monday, wednesday, and friday. jackson’s school days are my days that i really try to have my shit together. that’s what works for me.
and ultimately, those of us who are parents, who are working, who are living and breathing and dealing with what this world throws at us, are trying to figure out… what works for me?
i finished off my makeup application in the parking lot of the coffee shop where i come to work after dropping off jackson at school. after putting on my mascara, i closed my makeup bag and tossed it on the passenger seat of my car.
finished… and ready to begin.
then i looked briefly to my right and in the car next to me was a man in a suit with a newspaper open across his steering wheel, readying himself for his day.
and i had to laugh.
Have a Sip
