http://thebloggess.com
This is possibly my favorite thing on the "inter webs" right now.
I am applying to Hedgebrook, and I am putting it off so much I think that maybe I don't want to do it.
Or maybe I do and I am so used to being disappointed that I am letting it slip.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Yesterday I met my half Sister.
My whole life I have had what I call my "moving dreams". Since we moved so much growing up, I would dream I was somewhere and I had to be on a plane, since that is something very final and you can't turn around and get something you have left behind. I would dream that I had not packed and that we had to leave in a few minutes and that I would have forgotten to pack. And usually worse I would have had all my favorite things with me and I would have forgotten to get enough boxes, or bags or suitcases. So here I am with my precious children's books collection and the brown shelf they all fit on so nicely and I would be late for the plane and I had to decide what I was taking and what I would have to leave behind. It was always a very scary, upsetting, stressful situation. I know that whatever I left behind I would never see again. I knew that whatever was dropped would be lost forever. And the horror of leaving something behind, something that I night need someday and would not either be able to find, or that would not have the money to replace was terrifying to me. What if I got to the new place and needed the Ironing board, or the left handed set of golf clubs, or the bicycle?
What if? I never trusted my past, so why should I trust that the future would be ok?
This weekend I met my Half Sister Katie. I found out about her last year, after the death of my Aunt Camille. She was part of the final settlement of my Aunt's Estate. My cousin, little Camille called me one evening and told me about her. I had not spoken to Camille since I was 10 (43 years). When she told me that my father had been married once before and that I had a half sister named Katie Smith was overwhelming. I have since started calling it the "wow" conversation. All I could say after she told me was "Wow". It was pretty shocking.
As I have thought about it I think once dad mentioned that he had another daughter while he was driving me to school in Manitou. I remember us going around the blind curve that he always took too fast in his cop car, as he told me that I had a half sister and that she might be showing up because she was graduating soon. I think I would have been 12 or 13? I also realize as I write this that I often did not believe things dad told me because his wild life stories were the only thing I believed of him. His childhood growing up in the west and riding horses and being friends with indians. He broke his promise on so many other things, coming to see my school christmas choir concerts, or being home for dinner, or being home at all, that I could believe his wild cowboys stories, but not his stories that were grounded in any kind of reality. I remember once arguing with him and then calling him a liar when he told me that there were busses of people that went to the Denver Bronco games. We lived in Colorado Springs, an hour from Denver, but I told him I didn't believe the story he made up of busses full of Broncos fans leaving on Sunday mornings for the games. He just calmly let me call him a liar. I believe the exact wording I used was "bull shit". That moment when he conceded so easily I was sure was a turning point. He finally knew he couldn't pull the wool over my eyes. What I know now is that he just decided to quit fighting me.
My sister Katie is a few years older than my sister Pat. She said that her mother was divorced from our dad by the time she was 9 months old. I assume dad got her pregnant and then did the right thing. Which is so often so far from the right thing it isn't even funny.
Now, after meeting Katie, I realize I have a million questions. I also know that I will be able to ask her these questions. And I will believe her, as I never believed my father. I think I may have asked him a question or two but he would not answer me. Was he on a call, and had to get me close to school, so he could just drop me then get to work. Which he did a lot. I don't think I even knew her name.
I think also when dad died I asked Pat if we should call her, but she said, no. That she was a bitch and that she wouldn't talk to dad when he asked to talk to her. Then I remember that I found a page in mom's address box written in dad's hand writing. I kept it. It had Kathleen Smith written on it. On the back of the card is a note, she will or won't call as she wants.
As I try to untangle what I knew and what I didn't, as I grasp at memories and wonder at conversations that were real or imagined, I find that I am feeling lost and found at the same time.
Last night I had my "moving dream". This time I had three bags. They were all packed and ready to go. I had to rummage through mom's hutch, as I always do in my dreams, as I looked for my tarot cards and my psychic books. I put them under my arm and was ready to leave. (I also looked for that box of pot that I have somewhere, that I want to get rid of. but cannot remember where it is.) So yeah, a little stress. But the three bags were ready.
Dave, Pat, Katie?
What if? I never trusted my past, so why should I trust that the future would be ok?
This weekend I met my Half Sister Katie. I found out about her last year, after the death of my Aunt Camille. She was part of the final settlement of my Aunt's Estate. My cousin, little Camille called me one evening and told me about her. I had not spoken to Camille since I was 10 (43 years). When she told me that my father had been married once before and that I had a half sister named Katie Smith was overwhelming. I have since started calling it the "wow" conversation. All I could say after she told me was "Wow". It was pretty shocking.
As I have thought about it I think once dad mentioned that he had another daughter while he was driving me to school in Manitou. I remember us going around the blind curve that he always took too fast in his cop car, as he told me that I had a half sister and that she might be showing up because she was graduating soon. I think I would have been 12 or 13? I also realize as I write this that I often did not believe things dad told me because his wild life stories were the only thing I believed of him. His childhood growing up in the west and riding horses and being friends with indians. He broke his promise on so many other things, coming to see my school christmas choir concerts, or being home for dinner, or being home at all, that I could believe his wild cowboys stories, but not his stories that were grounded in any kind of reality. I remember once arguing with him and then calling him a liar when he told me that there were busses of people that went to the Denver Bronco games. We lived in Colorado Springs, an hour from Denver, but I told him I didn't believe the story he made up of busses full of Broncos fans leaving on Sunday mornings for the games. He just calmly let me call him a liar. I believe the exact wording I used was "bull shit". That moment when he conceded so easily I was sure was a turning point. He finally knew he couldn't pull the wool over my eyes. What I know now is that he just decided to quit fighting me.
My sister Katie is a few years older than my sister Pat. She said that her mother was divorced from our dad by the time she was 9 months old. I assume dad got her pregnant and then did the right thing. Which is so often so far from the right thing it isn't even funny.
Now, after meeting Katie, I realize I have a million questions. I also know that I will be able to ask her these questions. And I will believe her, as I never believed my father. I think I may have asked him a question or two but he would not answer me. Was he on a call, and had to get me close to school, so he could just drop me then get to work. Which he did a lot. I don't think I even knew her name.
I think also when dad died I asked Pat if we should call her, but she said, no. That she was a bitch and that she wouldn't talk to dad when he asked to talk to her. Then I remember that I found a page in mom's address box written in dad's hand writing. I kept it. It had Kathleen Smith written on it. On the back of the card is a note, she will or won't call as she wants.
As I try to untangle what I knew and what I didn't, as I grasp at memories and wonder at conversations that were real or imagined, I find that I am feeling lost and found at the same time.
Last night I had my "moving dream". This time I had three bags. They were all packed and ready to go. I had to rummage through mom's hutch, as I always do in my dreams, as I looked for my tarot cards and my psychic books. I put them under my arm and was ready to leave. (I also looked for that box of pot that I have somewhere, that I want to get rid of. but cannot remember where it is.) So yeah, a little stress. But the three bags were ready.
Dave, Pat, Katie?
Friday, February 20, 2015
The day before I turn 53.
I have been in a whirlwind this year and all I can say is that I just held on and rode the ride. This time last year I took a life altering chance and went to Savannah to meet Dave, the Scottish bloke I met on geek2geek.com. We met on September 9, 2013. Speaking to each other on-line, then via Skype, I decided to push us into meeting earlier than his planned November of 2014. During the months of calls that froze and dropped I finally figured out what everyone was talking about when they talked of falling in love and wanting to get married. I get it now. Took me 52 years, but I get it now.
This time last year we were on the Savannah trip. An amazing time that is straight out of a romance novel. Yesterday a year ago he came down the escalator in his red converse and his nerd t-shirt and leather jacket. I was crazy about him the moment I smelled him as he gathered me into his arms. Arms that for years he thought were too long, but were perfect to wrap around my very generous body.
Today, a year ago, he and I were on a tour of Savannah. Testing out how to hold hands and eat around each other without being embarrassed.
For my birthday, a year ago tomorrow, he got up at 5am and shaved. Then gave me some of the most beautiful jewelry and cards I have ever gotten. We went to the beach and were drenched in a monsoon of rain and laughter. At that moment Dave realized that I would not be the woman who would see this as a fail, but as a wonderful quirky win, and I watched him physically relax. That night we spent at a beautiful restaurant where I had a delightful dinner, and then one of the worst hot flashes I have ever had. He just sat with me and held my hand and stayed with me through it. Another win in my eyes.
The next day was a pottering about kind of day, Walmart, which he went nuts over, Barnes and Nobel where we both went to the same section. Then that evening we had a sad little dinner and walked back to the hotel. That night we talked about what would have to happen for us to move forward. I was very matter of fact, and he was very helpful. Then I told him I needed at least an hour or two of sleep because I had to drive us back to Atlanta for the flights out.
As we lay there he kicked and fussed and all I could think was that I had blown it. That he was trying to find a way to get out of it with me, to end this in a way we that neither of us would loose face and that we could drive back to Atlanta and at least be "friends" for the ride back.
Again at 5 am he woke me (because we had to leave in an hour) This time he made me get up out of bed. Standing in my bare feet and not really awake, he kneeled down to tie my shoe laces. Which made no sense to me. Then he held both my hands and looked up at me and said, "will you marry me?"
The rest is a bit of a blur. All I know for sure is that I said yes, we both cried, and then he gave me a the shirt he was wearing so that I could have a reminder, since he did not have a ring for me.
All I also know for sure is that for once in my life I stepped off the safe place I have ensconced myself for 22 years and I jumped into his monkey arms. All I also know for sure is that We are approaching our 6 month wedding anniversary, and although I have had some challenges adjusting to having a person in my life who I would do anything for, I have never been in a better place in my entire life.
30 years ago I saw a vedic astrologer who tilted his head at me in a very endearing way and said, "If you can actually survive to your 50's then you will have paid all your karmic debt and you will be able to live the rest of your life in joy."
Booyah.
This time last year we were on the Savannah trip. An amazing time that is straight out of a romance novel. Yesterday a year ago he came down the escalator in his red converse and his nerd t-shirt and leather jacket. I was crazy about him the moment I smelled him as he gathered me into his arms. Arms that for years he thought were too long, but were perfect to wrap around my very generous body.
Today, a year ago, he and I were on a tour of Savannah. Testing out how to hold hands and eat around each other without being embarrassed.
For my birthday, a year ago tomorrow, he got up at 5am and shaved. Then gave me some of the most beautiful jewelry and cards I have ever gotten. We went to the beach and were drenched in a monsoon of rain and laughter. At that moment Dave realized that I would not be the woman who would see this as a fail, but as a wonderful quirky win, and I watched him physically relax. That night we spent at a beautiful restaurant where I had a delightful dinner, and then one of the worst hot flashes I have ever had. He just sat with me and held my hand and stayed with me through it. Another win in my eyes.
The next day was a pottering about kind of day, Walmart, which he went nuts over, Barnes and Nobel where we both went to the same section. Then that evening we had a sad little dinner and walked back to the hotel. That night we talked about what would have to happen for us to move forward. I was very matter of fact, and he was very helpful. Then I told him I needed at least an hour or two of sleep because I had to drive us back to Atlanta for the flights out.
As we lay there he kicked and fussed and all I could think was that I had blown it. That he was trying to find a way to get out of it with me, to end this in a way we that neither of us would loose face and that we could drive back to Atlanta and at least be "friends" for the ride back.
Again at 5 am he woke me (because we had to leave in an hour) This time he made me get up out of bed. Standing in my bare feet and not really awake, he kneeled down to tie my shoe laces. Which made no sense to me. Then he held both my hands and looked up at me and said, "will you marry me?"
The rest is a bit of a blur. All I know for sure is that I said yes, we both cried, and then he gave me a the shirt he was wearing so that I could have a reminder, since he did not have a ring for me.
All I also know for sure is that for once in my life I stepped off the safe place I have ensconced myself for 22 years and I jumped into his monkey arms. All I also know for sure is that We are approaching our 6 month wedding anniversary, and although I have had some challenges adjusting to having a person in my life who I would do anything for, I have never been in a better place in my entire life.
30 years ago I saw a vedic astrologer who tilted his head at me in a very endearing way and said, "If you can actually survive to your 50's then you will have paid all your karmic debt and you will be able to live the rest of your life in joy."
Booyah.
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