aside from the mama thing

In The Parking Lot Where We Decide About Life

Blogging | February 7, 2010

The creek is frozen on the edges. The coast guard came through and broke up the middle. It is tidal so when the tide is coming in it is queer to see the ice pieces moving in. Sometimes there are a sea gulls riding the floats. I once saw a trio of crows eating a dead animal on a chunk of ice. The tide was very high that day and there was all sorts of debris being pushed along by the tide. It had been a long winter with a deep freeze. it all felt exciting, the melting, the water moving, the dancing caw of enjoying a meal. The crows were hopping up and down, taking turns pulling at the carcass. They also took turns hollering with puffed out chests and pumping wings like they were intoxicated by the meal. I wanted to join them, jump onto the next big chunk of ice floating by. They were sure to be going where things were happening. I wanted to see what would happen next. I stayed at my desk and continued my work.

Today I was out alone. I was driving down the road of boxstores. It was quiet in my car. It is never quiet in my car. I felt off kilter from the lack of effort it took to think or remember about what I was doing. It was vast in my car without the stimulus and demands of three kids. As I was approaching the store I felt the urge to keep driving. I wondered what would happen as the day went on and I was no where to be found and the night with a toddler wanting her mama and then what would the morning look like. I felt bad about the car. There would only be a truck and there is not enough room for all of them in the truck. Funny I felt bad about the impracticability of my taking the car and not missing any one. I felt so removed and then I thought of Opals hand and I turned into the grocery store parking lot. I need to get out alone more. I think I would create less escape routes if I actually escaped more.

I want to go back to the hand. The little hand. I drove into the parking lot with the image her hand resting in my lap. I parked and found a pen and felt two characters come over me. A mother and her teenaged daughter and I thought about how we become estranged from the ones we love most. I thought about how there can come a time when you can be totally indifferent..

the mother said "I don't need to know anything more about you. I can remember your little hand cradled in my lap while you slept and that is enough."

the daughter spews "I hate you! You don't know anything."

The mother replies "I knew every line on that hand. I loved you so wholly and was loved by you. It was good enough. I don't need anything more. Your path is filled with pain and I can't reach you. I am done. The rest belongs to you."

There will come a time when we split off and our children take with them the people they have become and there is so much more at work than what we give them. They have an experience that can't yet be related. There is a private world in there that we as parents or adults can't know. I think that's what I hate most about being a parent, being too busy to be a participant in their lives the way I would like to.

I returned home to a nice hug from miss Opal and I felt a desire to be on my knees, close to their faces to watch while they talked and put my hand on shoulders and on top of heads and I felt glad to be here.


1. Joan Merrill on February 8, 2010

Ah, Sadie. You do have a way with words. I could almost feel my children's hands as I read it.

2. Nina on August 28, 2010

Deep sigh then brisk inhalation


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About saidee brown

Been making some changes. The bits that will remain. I have three young children. One is not yet in school. Time is limited and sacred.
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