You and I saw a dead fawn on High Street yesterday. (spotted fur, broken leg bone) You cried and then said this to the deer. I was your scribe…)
I am sorry you died. Just today we saw an alive boy deer in the trees. He had new little horns on his head. I watched him. He watched me. We stayed really still. He was alive.
But you are dead, You will never grow horns or get bigger. The driver maybe didn’t see you. I hope your mommy deer was with you. Your leg braked.
Please try to come alive again. Love, Orion
Tuesday last….Uncle AJ came back from New York yesterday all trained up (well, sort of), and spends this week in San Jose with another company guy from Los Gatos , then buys a work car, drives to Manhattan Beach and seeks housing. He’ll get paid pretty soon and that’s the point of work (kind of) and he is also enthusiastic about his new work. That’s another important part of growing up. Feeling proud and productive. All of this exciting new job news for AJ, while your daddy hasn’t been called for guard duty even once in two weeks.
Mommy and Daddy have no money, no food and a tiny bit of gas when they coasted in yesterday. We sold the drum kit and I gave them $200 cash until the ck. clears. Mommy lost her Medi-Cal and is very sad. I think things are getting harder for them. Sometimes hard makes us change to make things better. Let’s hope that this difficulty pushes mommy to find help-any kind. She needs to stop folding up and hiding and reach out, walk, look at herself in the long run and know that training is key for a job, for a life. We went through the refrigerator, the cans cupboard and noodle basket filling a bag with foods for them. But they wanted $60 for a stove top burner. I asked them to look at thrift shops. That’s too much money, I had to tell them. But I shouldn’t have. Your mommy was mad at me, at the county and the world yesterday. She and daddy are really struggling and each decision is too hard for them.
As for you, gymnastics started today and I will go down and pick you up pretty soon. Gina took you because a new contractor was here and grandpa is out of town again. He’ll be back on Thursday then we go to Seattle for a nephew’s wedding (grandpa’s sister’s son) Christopher Takahashi and Elaine Huang. We’ll stay in a fancy hotel. You and Sissy are going to the fancy wedding at a tennis club. I bet they don’t belong to the club, but maybe. It will be night so we will have to hope it all works out. You are excited about your shirt and pants like grandpa’s. I got Ellie a few little dresses at the used clothing store and forgot to think about my dress. Hmmm. I forgot to get them a gift, too. Maybe we can get that later today. After gymnastics.
Wednesday: We miss grandpa. A grandpa who feels so overwhelmed by this daddy role with both of you that I think he prefers to be gone. Its hard for him to adapt to some of this new life with you guys when he’s not here. Since he doesn’t hang out to adapt, adjust or modify his thinking, he is a little out of step. He does not yet tolerate most of what I (we) do all day. The gap between us enlarges weekly. He does his thing and I do ours. Similar to when your daddy and AJ were young, but I am less inclined to help gpa build relationships (spend time) than I was with your daddy’s dad and his boys. Somehow it seems an unfair expectation for Grandpa. But this isn’t working well for us, (Me and he) either. Gotta get us all re-calibrated. This family seems temporary, but may not be. And that’s hard on all of us. Need to get into the big house get the nanny family here to have more daily support, parenting help and daily freedoms for grandpa and I to sit together again, read, chat, plan and just be together, etc. (Now that your mom and dad are gone we don’t have the spur of the moment coverage.) And we won’t move until after September. So meanwhile….
Both of you have colds, four days old. You went to a stimulating (a bit too long) gym class and were exhausted, overwhelmed, a bit crazed. And ran it off at the beach while we waited to pick up Liza. She stayed home today, you too. I am the booger monitor, catching fat green worms that explode out your faces, sopping spills, sippy cups of water and slicing fruits for you to gobble between sneezes.
Monday: We went to Seattle and made it back and are back in four pieces. (maybe more). It was a hell trip. But had some lovely moments. (Shitty trip, with a few good parts-much like the coyote crap on my driveway this morning slimy poo but with visible whole acorns and apple chunks still available for yet another meal). I got sick and resorted to a rare behavior in myself-I actually took cold medicine. You were impatient with all the necessary restrictions of travel; seat trays that mustn’t go up and down, up and down, lack of leg room no allowance for kicking the lady in front of us one more time, other people pushing the elevator buttons first. Waiting and waiting, sitting still and what? No running? You were delighted with the monorail, space needle and children’s museum and the pool. Liza was mostly contrary, doing every misbehavior again after you did it first. She was delighted with familiar snacks I brought along, O’s, squeeze bag smoothies, her night night tea, her blankie, the pool, the train and our rental car’s plush carseat…Ahhhh. Her favorite word was No, like the staccato of a machine gun, fired at anyone who looked at her. Often accompanied by slapping hands and head twisted away. Throwing shoes into aisles, under seats, out of car windows. A wild cat of a girl. She reminded us that we can’t do this much longer. Really. Pretty fed up. With my own giving up not an option. Maybe not with your either.
For respite, to capture my own time, meet a tiny bit of my own need for order and peace, I watch the fireplace going up-the stones set into their places, cut, chipped, placed, then mortared, each stone selected for each particular space. The mantle laying atop, leveled, re-set and leveled again. There’s angle iron hiding in back, slots to set the heavy ones on and bolts to invisibly anchor. Beautiful craftsmanship, thoughtful and deliberate craftspeople, two guys from Mexico. Part of a small business owed by a local fellow, Drummond, Masonry, who appreciates teamwork, artistic negotiation, customer involvement and his 19 guys. Surely we got the best ones! I want to put my hands in the mud and work along side. Teach me to do it, I say.
The fireplace veneer (real rocks and river stones set on the surface of the actual fireplace a modern and green steel firebox) and the resulting stone hearth is my metaphor of the day. Its a stream bed, a canyon wall, a vacation from the couches and toastie O’s, diapers, toy airplanes and dollies, even the new house wallboard, fir casings and concrete porch pour. The stone is natural, flows in organic patterns, and whispers of the water ways that once shaped the stones. I am at peace here. Grandpa is too.
The fireplace starts with messy piles of unsorted rocks, bags of mortar mix, powders, hoses, buckets, carts, dirty shovels, scrapers, levels, string, knives, trowels and shapers and all gathered for the purpose of making this art piece. I like to stop and appreciate each portion of the process. It heals me, reassures, centers and anchors. Hand building does that. Kids are aware of that. You certainly are. The science museum near the space needle was your time. Grandpa watched with patient understanding as you did things again and again. At your own pace. Liza found the low access water way with the boats and balls was content for the day. I find the mud and mortar and the round rocks placed in there erupting out of the flat plane of the rock next to it. Am delighted by each stone.
The livingroom is a mess. I love it. I want to find clay and throw a pot alongside the workmen. I long for time to creatively shape something. Add a round stone next to a surprisingly flat horizontal and pushed up next to a sharp corner. Resonance of spirit. I am mortar, the craftsman, the chiseler, cutter, the mason; you the rocks, and the fireplace our hearth, our art, heart. Come sit beside me and warm your feet. I long for that moment, the time that’s not now. The time that we build for. It offers a place to sit. And notice each stone.
I blogging at the SFO airport in the international terminal across from Exit G where your uncle AJ should arrive in the next few minutes. A flight from Tokyo is passing thru now. People screeching like nails on glass, one another’s names in unfamiliar staccato grating and melodic languages. The sound flings painfully across the cavern of glass and concrete where one echo links with other echoes and bounce around and until it all abruptly charges at my ears. I may have two ear infections, and am water-balloon headed today. I am also expectant, eager and happy. And a little sleepy.
I got up early and left daddy with you and sissy at the crack of dawn. He and mommy are moving today. I fronted them some money for first and last and they move to Lompico cabin. I didn’t want to know anything about it. I was fond of the idea of them just being gone. Although I must admit, I will miss seeing daddy for coffee in the mornings. But sadly can’t think of a thing I’ll miss about your mommy. Sorry, buddy. You told me that their cabin is “this big” spreading your arms to shoulder width. That’s what I thought. A big bed and no couch, you told me. I did ask a question: Can you afford to pay the rent after you make this commitment? Mommy says she hopes to get disability checks. I told her to get a life instead. No. But I was not nice. Be a good partner, get work, participate, dammit. Start to be productive for your own good and to support your family.
I’ll have to address the clean up later. I have so little energy this week as I fight the cold or whatever it is. I told the doctor that I have a sinus infection, he told me to get some nasal spray and some Allegra. Did he think I was simply unhappy? Then I had to find time to return to the doc in the box after a screaming rather than moaning headache, teeth falling out eyes burning and ears throbbing headache kept me awake all night. And I had to beg for antibiotics. I know my body by now I told the young whippersnapper. This is a sinus infection. See how rarely I use antibiotics-why do you keep track of everything on the computer? Jeeze. He warns that I may get runny poo, a yeast infection, dizzy and be light sensitive. Shut up. Bring em on, I have to lift my head at least a few times a day to supervise these kids.
I now can lift my head off the pillow without grasping my hands behind my head and pulling with my knees first. And Grandpa finally comes home from his trip and I can get a shower and a moment.
I see AJ. He must be the last one off his plane. I parked rather than circle endlessly. What fun to see him. He talks about women in Brazil he’s leaving, women of the flight and then talks about women. Hmm. I can hardly wait til this fellow stops dating and gets serious. Could be years off. He goes to New York on Sunday, back next Sunday and his position starts on the 13th of June. We stop several times: in Los Gatos to get his new I-Phone from a company rep and his American Express Card Global Surf Industries and some reading material for the plane, at the Bagelry (too long without a bagel), dad’s shop, and grandma’s house to get her car. Then he comes home and sleeeeeps. I look at him there and crawl on top for a snuggle. So sweet. Bed still warm you crawl in for his afternoon nap and join him.
On Friday, you and sister and I went to Caroline’s Retirement Party in Monterey and played with Slaone. It was on the way home I discovered my eye infection. I couldn’t clear them and the sun was way too bright (Damn whippersnapper?). I used your cream eye treatment before bed, fell asleep with you in the bed and never got you into your own bed. Sissy went to bed without her bottle. She and I threw it in the trash. Basura, we sing and dance. BA-SU-RA, cha, cha, cha. Want your sippy cup? Okay she says. We’ll see how nap goes tomorrow. She also goes potty on the toilet before baths and after a diaper change sits a moment. A little premature, but just the beginnings. When potty appears, she claps for it. You clap for her too, and hug her. Thanks for the support, buddy. We’re okay for now.