Apologies

I feel so fickle, deciding to tell the truth. Then being silent for so long. It has been a dark time, despite the sun. I try to be involved in the world, but I struggle. I decided to tell the whole story, but now the hot, orange sun is shining. Even though we are still in Portland, it feels like The City of Angels at Michaelmas Time. I am distracted. There are summer fires east of Portland, casting a searing glow upon everything. The sunrise has no ribbons of violet or pink, but just a deep, penetrating vermillion effulgence. The days are dry and hot. The grass is crispy and dead. As I sit on the porch steps in the late afternoon, I am hot. Like all the way to the bone hot. These are the days I long for in February. To be so hot, I am miserable. I have always lived in simple abodes, usually sans dishwasher or air conditioning. I have learned to love the shifting of the extremes in weather without being lulled into complacency by endless cold air or houses sealed tight. So, here I am and for now, this is what I have been doing:

Ripening Ground Cherries. Like teeny tiny Pineapples.

All the neighborhood babes are out playing in the sun.

Blackberry Pies are on the menu.

A little en plein aire.

A little puppy love.

Twenty One

An addition to the Blair Lake saga, I didn't mention what I did four days later. It just so happens that my first-born entered the world a mere four days after my 23rd birthday. So after my birthday swim and a few days at work, I made my way back down the fire road. This time with a very large vegan birthday cake for my girl. She was turning ten. And now, she is turning 21. I have raised on her on my own for most of her life, I was happy to do it. I like her, she is fun to be around and witty and has great taste in vintage clothes. She is a beauty. And I wasn't sad to be a single mother. Really. It was hard and lonely and isolating at times, but at the end of the day, it felt good to be their mother.

To work hard and earn the money to support them, it was nice. I am glad that I had the opportunity then, because now, well now, I don't have a career. So I guess I would have been screwed. So I am glad I had the opportunity to teach in that school in Altadena while I did, it provided me with income and health insurance. I thought it gave me more, relationships, value, but I was wrong. All of that was ripped away when I was forced to hire an attorney to help fight Employer's Insurance of Nevada. They were the cut rate Workers' Compensation company that the school hired. It was all ripped away. All of the relationships I forged and nurtured are gone after eight years. Gone. I mean I may NEVER see or speak to these people ever again. The teacher I walked with EVERYDAY during our free periods, sharing teaching tips and family stories, I may never take a walk with her again. It kind of hurts my heart, because I thought our friendship was real. I also love her daughter, I met her when she was seven. She hates me now. For good reason in her eyes, I suppose...but I still love her and her mother very much. I think of them often.

There are many other stories of lost friendships just like this...just because of this work injury. It makes me want to cry....

Summer In The Pacific Northwest

Blair Lake

All the stories of the rain are true. It slips down in great damp sheets. Day after day after day. This summer began about two weeks ago. Really. The second week of July felt like October. However, when summer does arrive here in these parts...the heart soars for the glory of the day. Bright blue skies, luminous white, puffed clouds and the greens of well fed trees.

The summer after my independence was lovely. Strings of sunny days, cool indigo nights, just thinking about it makes me swoon. The children were going to be camping with some friends to a hidden lake 15 miles down a logging road. It is a treacherous journey, the cars are white from the dust upon arrival, you can only drive three-four miles an hour. There are only a handful of camps dotted around the most serene lake. We arrived on the eve of my thirty-third birthday. The afternoon was busy with setting up camp kitchens, common areas and comfy sleeping chambers.

Camping sleep usually eludes me, I woke before the dawn and watched day creep over the tree line and reflect mirror pools on the surface, like one dimensional bubbles, resting on the water, before slipping into the depths of the lake. I wanted to dive into the lake. It was my birthday, I was 33. I like those same-same numbers. 11, 22, 33...I will be 44 in a few days. Again, I digress. I wanted to dive into the lake, slow motion style, like the movies. I was afraid the water would be cold. But because, my children's father didn't break me, because I was empowered, I just stood at the shore, walked in a few feet and dove head first into the lake(I like to think in slow motion.)

There was no shock of cold. No gasp for air from the shock of snow melt. The shallow lake had been warmed by the sun, it was welcoming, waiting for me. I swam and swam and swam. I was the only one awake. I floated in the center of the lake, light watery fingers holding me up.

I don't remember making the trip back up the fire road that morning, inching my way back to Eugene, alone. I had to head back to work. But that morning, the morning I turned 33? I was floating in a lake, deep in the woods at dawn...

What Came Next

After The Phone Call, my soul was set free. I never looked back again. The children and I moved forward in giant, jolly steps. We took trips to the coast, the forest, made vegetarian tacos and ate tons of them on our pink table on the lanai. The Girl Child painted at her easel and pretended to practice her cello. The Boy Child was completely preoccupied with Star Wars and had a room that overlooked a Christmas Tree Farm.

The Waldorf Teacher Training Program fed my searching heart, posing questions and pushing my limits. As a part of The Foundation Year curriculum, the students participate in a play. I had not been in a play since my breakout role as Gretel in Grade Five in which I developed the most insane, heart wrenching, love-sick crush on Hansel. I digress. I was in a play. I was one of the three gods. As a surprise, in one of the scenes we put our lines to the tune of "Baby Love." We even included choreographed dance moves. It was pretty funny. When in doubt, Motown.

This Part

I don't know why I don't want to write this part...It was a good time. The Phone Call came at this point. The one I had always hoped would come. The children's father called in desperation when he realized that this time, I was indeed moving on. It was over. He tried all of his old addict manipulative behaviors, but I was immune. During the Phone Call, his voice changed, it became sweet and soft, like in our early days. "You are my best friend..." he whispered. In a sure and steady voice I replied, "Next time, you should treat your friends a little bit better." I hung up.

Over the next several months, after mediation and time, we tried to be "normal." He would try to pick up the children on the weekend, but he was never consistent and then one day he looked weird. My gut told me to keep the children with me. I had to be insistent but calm. I didn't remember my eight year old daughter standing there, overhearing my defense of their safety. A few weeks ago(she is on the cusp of turning 21) she told me she has always remembered that moment, the moment I protected her, kept her safe. She told me how she thought I was so brave. I remember feeling brave, confident. I am so glad she witnessed that moment.

Many years later, she was brave. She was brave when she stood up to that father who hurt her and left her and promised birthday gifts that would never come and phone calls that never rang through...She was brave when she told him he was nothing to her. She needed nothing, wanted nothing from him. Maybe, in this part, I was brave to show her how to be...

After That Night

I did take precautions. This was the end, it isn't always for relationships like this, but it was over, finally. I began parking my car close to the restaurant and got a Club since the ex had a key. I didn't have to do it very long. He soon lost interest in our daily lives. We tried a few "normal" routes, like mediation and child support orders. It all ended badly. The mediator actually called and let me know that she could no longer help us, the ex reminded her of her ex, go figure. She told me there was no hope for him, he was never going to do what he said he was going to do, she had seen it a million times. I will always remember what both the mediators told me, "You propose and he disposes." He never did anything he said he would do. He undermined all of our agreements. So I just kept going forward. In the end, both children are adults now, he paid a total of $500 in support, plus I got $30 a week from his unemployment check for about six months in 2004. That was actually really helpful...He was eventually court ordered to pay $240 a month in child support for two children in 1999. Since I made more money, I was responsible for 80% of the children's care. The children never saw a dime of that support. Ever.

Did I mention how great work was going? I made good friends, I had a bit of a social life and I was making enough to take care of the children. School was also enlivening, I was starving for learning and I gobbled it up! I worked long hours those days. I went to school a couple of nights a week and a had a few day classes, plus I usually put in 50 or more hours at the restaurant. The weekends were filled with work and a long Saturday morning class. I remember being so envious of my classmates who would leave class on Saturday afternoon with a free schedule. Weekends were the hardest for me and the children. I worked all day Friday at the restaurant, hurried to class at 5pm and was usually free by 10pm. A friend picked up the children from school and kept them over night as I had class from 8am-1pm on Saturday. The children would often stay with the sitter overnight again, as I would rush home, try to get a nap under my belt and head to the restaurant until 3am. The sitter would drop them off early Sunday, we would spend the day together before I dropped them off at the sitter at 4pm for my night shift. I made it a point to pick the children up on Sunday nights so we could start the week together, even if it was late. I remember dark wet nights, carrying my son on my back while he nodded in his sleep. Sometimes, I would carry my daughter on my front, so we could hurry through the empty parking lot together. I would gingerly put them in their own beds, tuck them in and fall in an exhausted heap on the couch.

I Wasn't There Long

Not even a second. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by my new friends. People I had only known for a few months. Arms clad in white shirts lifted me up.

"Are you okay?"

"Who is that?"

But the best part of all? I looked over to the line, past the plates of food waiting for hungry customers...I could see Mike. He and I had barely spoke ten words since I was hired. He was big and burly and listened intently to Car Talk while prepping the line. He had heard my ex was a jerk. I guess that is why I saw him wielding a butcher knife over his very tall body. "Where is he? I'll get him!" as he disappeared out the back door. The rest was a blur. Mike was stopped and I agreed to go speak with the long lost ex.

A little back note: Life was going swimmingly at this point. I was in school, I had just been promoted, I was making life long friends. The children and I had just gotten over a bout of pneumonia. On my first day out after being bed ridden for two weeks, I was rear ended. The car was still wrecked(but drivable), waiting for an appointment at the auto shop.

When I walked back into the dim restaurant, my table of ten eagerly awaiting their server, he looked me in the eyes and asked, "What happened to the car?"

Really? The car? After all that had transpired, months of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, the car?

We stepped outside to speak alone, which really meant that every four seconds, one of the guys from the restaurant walked by, insuring my safety. He expressed his concern that I was "selling" meat and karmically I was doomed. "To support my children," I said, "I think I will risk it." I don't remember much from that conversation, save for the fact that I was surrounded by people who cared about me and were willing to protect me. That is what I remember most from that night...