HOMEFRONT

I’m posting this quickly before the router crashes again. Life has been overwhelming this week at my house, but I am headed to the relative simplicity of Denver this afternoon where I hope to catch up with everyone. . .

All three of my children sat at the lunch table Saturday laughing and sharing the sweetness of the moment. It has been two years since they were all home at the same time and I looked in wonder at the three amazing people that I seen to have created, loved, guided, and then the hardest part, set free. Saturday night they went out on the town together, visited friends at Sine, and somehow ended up playing volleyball at a local lesbian bar. I’m sorry I missed the evening, but no matter how cool they think I am, I understand I am the mom. They need me in Mom mode right now, especially with the changes we have all been going through lately. They know they almost lost this haven of stability and comfort, this soft place to fall. I never realized how deeply affected they had been by the problems between their Dad and I. I do realize how self-absorbed I have been though and know it is time to shift gears. I remember needing my Mom when I was an adult and not ever getting her support emotionally. I will not be that woman.

Sunday the two younger went off to hike, the oldest to a reunion of coworkers from his days with Kings Dominion Clown Band, and I entertained the group of dear friends I acquired by marriage. One couple came bearing wine from their local vineyards in Nebraska (who knew ?) called “Right of Way Red”. Somehow I was hesitant to open it, especially since they don’t drink and asked for sweet tea to go along with the antipasto I was serving in the kitchen. The next couple to arrive, just home from a trip to Greece, brought some wonderful cabernet that we immediately uncorked and consumed. The evening was too beautiful to sit inside, so I lit the fire pit and we ate dinner on the patio, Chicken Gorgonzola, garlic and portabella pasta, green salad and crusty bread, followed by sorbet and piroulines, plus a few ripe figs plucked from the tree over our heads.

Late in the evening when our guest left and the children trailed home I sat with my girl, helping with her crossword puzzle and talking about honesty. We have decided there will be no more secrets between us, ever. She knows the dark thing that dwells in her came from me; she sees it, she understands it, she forgives it. She tells me the truth, and calls me on the bullshit I sometimes espouse, lying to myself because I have no one else around strong enough to stop me. We decide to seal the new bond between us by getting matching tattoos of two spiral galaxies, but fortunately neither of us is sober enough to drive.

She came upstairs Monday night crying after talking to her husband on the phone. We opened the bottle of red from Nebraska and found it undrinkable, indescribably awful. It gave us something to laugh about anyway and we talked only about her, how hard she tried, how much of herself she gave away, how little she has to show for the 4 years she lost from her life. I have no answers but she doesn’t expect any. I am content that she lets me hold and comfort her as she sobs out the hurt and anger. She talks of the two men she has loved, the Russian fiancé who was murdered and the man who lives happily in England while her life is torn apart. We play “should ofs” and “what ifs” for a while, but nothing changes. Love still doesn’t conquer all, Pasha is still dead, Nick has still moved effortlessly on, and her heart is still broken. Life is always about the pain and the laughter, and the hope that there is a bit more happiness than despair. Tonight the pain wins, but yesterday it was joy, and tomorrow, win or lose, we will both find the courage to stand and meet it head on.