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The other day in the middle of an unrelated conversation Rick disclosed information about a past relationship.  It wasn’t big or alarming information nor was it relating to anyone he had a long term relationship with.  I think prior to me his longest relationship was perhaps about 4 months or so.  I can’t say for sure because he has a sketchy memory at best about these things and most often he shuts me down when I start to obsessively ask questions about things that just don’t matter anymore.  I share information with him regarding my past relationships but he never asks for it.  Never.  I think that’s the difference between men and women.

Upon this disclosure of information I realized that my major malfunction was that I was jealous.  Jealous of the past?  That’s just craziness.  Especially when my past is so crazy insane compared to his.  And yet I was.  And instead of acting insane and irrational…I just went to him…hugged him and said “this is crazy but I feel that tinge of jealously because my mind does not like to picture you with anyone else.”  He hugged me and it was over.

That fleeting bad feeling. 

I recently read The Dogs of Babel by Carolyn Parkhurst.  There’s a passage in the book that speaks about our second heart.

“It’s true, isn’t it, that each of us has two hearts?  The secret heart, curled behind like a fist, living gnarled and shrunken beneath the plain, open one we use every day.  I remember a night about a year or so ago, when I was lying next to Lexy, unable to sleep.  For some reason, I began thinking about a woman I had known in college, a woman I had dated for only six or seven weeks.  It was not a serious relationship, at least it wasn’t to her, but I had fallen in love with her, and it shamed me to realize that, all these years later, I still felt pain that she had not loved me back.  How can it be, I wondered, that we can be lying in bed next to a person we love wholly and helplessly, a person we love more than our own breath, and still ache to think of the one who caused us pain all those years ago?”  It’s the betrayal of this second heart of ours, its flesh tied off like a fingertip twined tightly round with a single hair, blue-tinged from lack of blood.  The shameful squeeze of it.  Lying there that night, with Lexy beside me, I was surprised to find myself where I was.  I was surprised to find that I had lived a whole life in the meantime.  And sitting here now, with all of Lexy’s dreams in my lap, I realize there are things about her I will never know.  It’s not the content of our dreams that gives our second heart its dark color; it’s the thoughts that go through our heads in those wakeful moments when sleep won’t come.  And those are the things we never tell anyone at all.”  - Carolyn Parkhurts (p. 228) 

I share all of this because I think my second heart is always fearful of losing him…because that second heart has been hurt before.  But my current heart is learning to trust the here and now and forget about all that has come before now….because it is today that is to be treasured the most.

I highly recommend The Dogs of Babel…it was a very good read.

Somewhere deep inside of me is a sweet happy song playing.  Its words are holding hands with the steam of words in the sentences of my current thoughts and love for my husband.  It’s like a parade of bliss running through my world today.  I sometimes stop myself and look around and say a prayer of thanks.  I have re-lit and re-built my life a few times and this time….this time I molded the world around me to be something that may not yet be what describes perfection but for me…deep inside…I am happy and it is perfect already.  I am blissful.  There is the prettiest song I’ve ever heard playing in my head….it’s melody caressing my heart strings…plucking at the right moments, in synch with my soul’s rhythmic beat.  With his hand on my hip in the middle of the night…strong enough to hold me down in the harshest of storms and my leg entwined with his, snug enough to make a perfect fit.  These are the things I now more than notice, and my mind writes the story down, a bestselling novel for my one customer, my memory.

I feel horrible this afternoon. I feel feverish and cold and yet I also just plain feel like crap. I woke up tired and was fine most of the morning but then around 4 p.m. I started to just feel horrible. I just want to get up and go home but I’m sticking it out…who know’s what will happen in the future and I hate to waste my sick time.

I keep telling myself this is not all that we are right now and yet it feels like that’s all I think about. The “trying” part of popping pills and staring at calendars waiting out days. Perhaps I am stress sick this afternoon. Either way I feel like I could throw up…or something. I have a gross taste in my mouth and my head hurts….and I’m hot and feverish. I hope I’m not simply getting a cold right now….that would probably not help things much.

Ok enough….perhaps this is just PMS? I wouldn’t know…I’ve never had PMS with so much lack of menses.

I just want some hot tea, my bed, a quilt…Chloe curled up next to me and Rick to hold me…

When you were born you were small and precious and fragile and I worried I’d forget to cradle your head and perhaps it might roll across the floor.  I got over those thoughts quite quickly but there was that first night of your life when I held you alone in the hospital room away from loud sounds and wondered if I’d manage to become a mother who could love you enough. Not because it was hard to do, I fell in love the moment I saw you.  I worried because a little baby boy like you deserved all the love in the world. 

Then when you were two you were tumbling around and rushing down hallways jumping on our dog Nikki.  You were rambunctious and fun.  You were constantly changing and always moving.  And mostly you were always talking.  You and I did fun things together, we’d play with your toys and your favorite books and we’d bake cookies and I’d let you dump flour all over the table and make big messes.  When you were 4 you were sweet and contemplative and always walking around with crayons and paper and “drawing” a picture for me.  When we moved to Florida I remember fondly the days at the pool when you wore your swimmies and splashed around the edge of the pool.  There’s been so many changes and yet one thing has always stayed the same.  I love you more every day no matter what.

I could go on and on and touch on every year that you passed and changed and aged and progressed.  But the truth of the matter is every year has been wonderful and different and I’ve watched you grow up.  Sure by some people’s standards you are not done growing by any means but I sometimes can’t find that little boy when I look at you now.  I can imagine you being someone’s father someday.  I still wonder what you’ll be when you grow up, but I wonder less.  I know that you’ll be stronger than you ever think you are, more sensitive than I imagined anyone could be, and more lovable than I could have hoped for.

I have always told you that you’d be my best friend even if you weren’t my son because I just plain like who you are that much.  I’m glad that you’re my child and that I have been so blessed to have known you at every stage of your life.  I look back and can’t even begin to chronicle every experience I’ve ever had because of you.  They have been good ones and they will continue.

Being someone’s mother is a blessing that never ends.  No matter what.  It’s wild and crazy and joyful and still sometimes it’s scary.  It’s hard to care about another person more than you care about yourself and not get tired sometimes.  It’s not as though loving you is hard to do, it’s more that I want to do it enough.  Always enough to be able to say I am your mother.

I knew the first time I looked at you that you deserved all things good.  Sometimes I have thought I failed you and then I stop and see the person that you were, my memories never waiver, and then I see the person you are and imagine the person you will become to be even that much greater…and I know that if you just have gratitude for today’s blessings then all the tomorrows in the world will just be that much better.

You are the thing that I have done best, because I push myself to always do better because of you.  We had a recent conversation where I told you jokingly that I might not live long enough to raise another child…and in that one brief moment I realized….no matter…no worry….a new baby would have a seasoned mother….a mother that learned how to truly love from you.  A new baby that would have double my love because he or she would have you for a big brother.

Thank’s for making me a better person and thanks for forgiving me every possible mistake I ever made…it wasn’t on purpose and I always told you, “I’m sorry I’ve never been anyone’s Mommy before.”  I think I’m the only Mom where I work that has pictures of her older than a toddler child on her desk.  People there always ask about you because they know you are first and foremost in my heart.  It’s great to have a kid that makes you appreciate today and look forward to tomorrow because we’ve only grown stronger with time.  I hope that I have become better at doing this Mom gig by now….because you still very much deserve that.

Sometimes I wish I could rewind our lives together so I could hear your toddler giggle one more time…or watch you learn to ride your bike again…or maybe just watch you do all of it all again…because every day I’ve been your Mom has been sweet.  I always hope you know that you were very wanted, very planned for and are still very loved.  I know you know….but I still wanted to say it again!

Love,

Mom

I finally gathered up the frames, the pictures…etc. and got the wall put together.

Yes I love candles.  And I’m here to tell ya that frames are rather expensive for not even coming with their own art.