Curveballs of life

This week hasn't been what l expected it to be. lt hasn't been quite what l wanted it to be either. My mother came down the first time in over a year. lt's a trip that has, sadly, been postponed three times, for various yet important reasons. Finally, after a great deal of impatient anticipation, she is here, and we chose to spend this short week in the San Juan islands off the coast of Washington. We are staying with a longtime family friend at his lovely home here, and l am grateful for his company and hospitality, yet, given his close relationship with my mom and his apparently complete lack of awareness, it has escaped his attention that she and l need some real quality time together, and instead seems to be vying desperately for time with her that l also badly need and am selfishly loath to share. For a majority of my young life, l've not had as much time with her as l would have liked, and it is during this particular visit that l realize just how much l resent both the distance between us and any company of hers l must share. This brings with it shame because l'm not a callous individual, worry because l don't know how to reverse it, and self righteousness that l feel l deserve the right to all her time during the brief visits we have together.

Mom is acutely aware of our need to spend time together, especially during this visit. l recently asked her to tell me more of her life before l came along; how she came to be my father's bride, mother to her daughter, and the events that shaped her up until those points. This is mainly born of a fear that she will die before l know her as intimately as l'd like, and l want to understand her better and more fully than l currently do. She chose to accept this challenge, and has written a short synopsis called "Memoirs for an audience of One", an incredible piece of work in which she details her childhood and moments in her life l always WISHED she'd share, but assumed she never would, because l was her daughter, not her confidante. However, l asked her to share her life as a woman, not a mother, and she has done so, and beautifully.

ln this memoir, she shares detail that is painful, joyful, precious, and much of which is deeply private and personal in regards to the both of us. l am not excluded from these memoirs - l am still her daughter, and a major part of her life. But these include details of her first marriage that allow me to further comprehend a divorce l probably chose to pretend didn't bother me because l knew it was the best for all involved, and throughout which l didn't want to be cause for concern. She clues me into her vulnerabilities, her insecurities, her triumphs, her failures, her confidence, her peace. This memoir answers many questions, but produces far more on my part that she seems eager and willing to answer, and l am deeply grateful for this. l am also excited to have these conversations - which brings me back to my original point.

We arrived at the island, and John picked us up. Shortly after getting there, and after our tour of the house and lodgings, he wanted to take us on a tour of the island. For the next two days, he was supposed to be working afternoons, but for whatever reason, did not. So we spent almost ALL of both days meeting all his friends on the island, having dinner with several and tea with yet another. Most of the other time we spent driving around, seeing the island, looking at the view, hiking. By the end of it, l think Mom and l were both too exhausted and overwhelmed by all the activity and energy to do much of anything. All l know is that we just wanted some peace to catch up and expand our relationship. But of course, later on in the evening, we discovered John had arranged a meetup today that we couldn't talk our way out of without being rude, and now, here l sit, writing because l feel compelled to do so, but also because l want John to have more time with her since we're leaving the island in the morning. l have all day with her tomorrow (Thursday) and she leaves early the next morning. We've had about five hours so far this trip to talk, most that being the car and boat ride here.

Don't get me wrong. l love John. He watched me grow up, and though he was a vague memory, l remember liking him very much, and that hasn't changed. My appreciation for the time l've spent with his fellow residents and the island on which they live is deep and genuine, so much so that l plan to return for future visits. But aside from my desire to have had more time with Mom, l really needed time for ME. l was hoping to come here, spend some good time with her on the veranda, draw, write, watch the deer, listen to the birds, the water, the wind in the trees, look at the stars, draw and write some more....get my head together, prepare for busy months ahead. *l* needed the retreat, and in yet another selfishly guilty way, l feel robbed. Tomorrow, it's back to the city, to the chaotic, and also the vastly mundane. lt has been a nice break - no cellphone signal to interrupt the still, soothing sound of nature...a wireless connection that was available, yet strangely far less appealing than it ever usually is for me (and y'all KNOW l'm an addict!!!)....the opportunity to appreciate NOT having a smoke, and instead breathing deep, filling breaths of fresh air (though l admit to giving in to my habit a couple of times, hehe). l love this state, this scenery, the ability to appreciate it with someone l love so deeply and who affirms my existence so wholly.

l feel guilty for wanting more than l'm given, especially when l have so much. This has been the dichotomy of growing up overseas and then being angry when my parents chose to stay there. But such is my fate, and such is my choice to deal with it in a way that makes me either grateful or bitter. l cannot choose the latter - to do so would be incredibly, unforgivably graceless. lt would negate what l HAVE had this week - the beauty of life outside of the city, the wonderful company of my mother, and the desperately needed break l've been given to reorganize myself and reconnect with my spirit.

Do l wish this week had gone somewhat differently? Yeah, l can't lie. Do l wish l'd had more time with my mama? Again, yes, l can't lie. Would l trade this week for one in which l did not get even the smallest percentage of the very things my soul needed to continue thriving? Not in a million years, and not for a million bucks. And l can rest easy now, knowing that despite not getting exactly the results l so earnestly covet, l will never regret what l am given. Amen.