Murky Waters. Today. Loss. Death. Strange quiet highways. Nap Time. Jack and Fiona will be up soon. House still quiet. Today is the anniversary of my mom’s death. Paintings Murky and dark. Mind murky and dark. News not good. It’s impossible to remove myself from politics and what’s happening in the world. I try to not get affected by it and think, “Maybe it’s going to be O.K.” But then I hear another piece of the puzzle. The picture on the puzzle says War. I hung out with some friends the other day, people I don’t know super well. I started picking up on some things so I asked them who they voted for. “Trump”, my legs get weak. I turn pale. So many thoughts are running through my head. They are nice people and they said they did it for fiscal reasons. They are two out of three people I know who voted for Trump. I’m stumped up on Trump. I think what’s going on in politics is frightening and extremely sad. Today I thought about a conversation I had with my friend’s Israeli mom, she told me Trump was her pick for US president. I asked her why, she said “He will protect Israel.” When I heard the news today about David Friedman becoming the US ambassador to Israel, I realized Palestine was the next Target. It’s sad. We are in a War, and America’s not the good guy. A lot of people around the world are dying and suffering because of us. Trumps agenda will have lots of collateral damage. He’ll align himself with the most powerful, most rich men of the world. They are power hungry, they do not care who they take down along the way. Guns and money always win.
Month: December 2016
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Walking down the trail this morning the wind starts to blow, the trees that still have leaves rustle, I hear a chime in the distance. I think of my mom, how she is part of everything, how she blows through me with the wind. I think of her laugh, her face, her skin, her voice. I don’t feel sad, I feel her presence in myself. I feel like she is here with me. She is part of me. Her birthday is Friday, December 16th and the anniversary of her death is on Tuesday the 20th. It’s been the hardest part of the year for me, the past seven years, mourning, trying to just get through the holidays. This year it’s different, I miss her every minute of every day, but I feel something new. I feel a new connection to my mom, a connection that transcends death, as if she’s been reborn into a new form. Reformed into the air I breath in and out. I have boxes of memories, trinkets and jewelry packed up after she died, I open the box and smell a bracelet, I can still smell my mom’s perfume on it. I close the box quickly, not to contaminate history, not to contaminate my present state of mind. It’s a connection to that time, the sadness I feel, the loss. A box of loss. It’s not a place to dwell, or hang out anymore. I honor her gifts she gave to me, who she was and how she influenced my life. My mom loved Christmas, she would have loved seeing Jack and Fiona decorating their tiny toddler tree, spending the holidays together. I miss her so much, she will be with me forever.
It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon, babies sleeping, Billy sleeping, I hear her long body stretch out on the carpet. Pink Bear and Jacks giant stuffed dog toys sit here with me at the kitchen table. This morning Fiona came walking into the kitchen with Pink bear, dog, and all three of her tigers in her arms. The stuffed toys were bigger than her, her cheeks rosy, smiling. Jack grabbed his stuffed dog and gave it a big hug. They are filled with love. Jack gives the best spontaneous hugs. They are very sweet children. Aren’t they all though? Children are angels. It’s hard not to spoil them! I have chores to do, but don’t feel like doing them. My mind is fighting itself, “I should be productive while the babies are sleeping” it says, then it says, “Just relax and do nothing, read your book.” Then it says, “you’ll regret not going to your studio and working on naptime paintings and notebooks.” Then it says, “but it’s cold down there”. What wins? As I let out a big yawn. I want to take Pink bear and Dog to the couch and cuddle with them on the couch.
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Fiona sits on my lap, leaning the side of her head onto my chest as the audiologist looks in her ears, first the left, then the right, gently pushing a small piece of cotton with a string attached in each ear. Jack watches and pretends he is a doctor looking in my ears with a plastic toy. Fiona is perfectly still as the audiologist mixes the putty and squirts some in each of her ears. We sit and wait for the putty to harden. Fiona examines my hands. First, she holds my pinky fingers, then turns my hand over, running her fingers down the creases, spending extra time on a cut on my thumb, feeling the scab that has formed. Jack plays with the collection of toys in the doctor’s office that have now become familiar to him. I am in awe of the difference from the last time we came to get ear molds. Jack was all over the place, going behind the desk, under the desk, opening the door to the office, walking out, into storage closets. I had to keep going after him. I was expecting a version of this behavior today, but he stays quiet and respectful of his sisters visit to the audiologist to get new ear molds. Are we entering a new phase? As we play footsies under the table, I’m typing, Jack’s watching Blippi on the ipad. He has been waking up at the same time I do every morning. We both take a sip of coffee, (his is diluted with cream) I imagine us in the future having coffee together in some foreign country, maybe Cuba. Fiona is still sleeping, she needs a lot more sleep than Jack.
It’s a foggy morning, the greens and rust colors on the trees outside sit gently against the light grey winter sky. Last night we sat on the couch and listened to Christmas songs. We put a wreath on the front door that has red and gold decorations and LED lights. It felt good. This morning I have a couple hours of help, this feels good. I took Billy for her walk and took my shower, now I sit in my bedroom alone, quiet. I still have the lightness and inspiration from my walk. In the backyard, my eyes delighted by the colors, on the fig tree. The ground covered with large, beautiful, green gold leaves, some remain scattered on the light ash colored branches. I gasp, Billy looks at me, I explain to her the beauty I see. Does she understand? We walk up the trail and the streams are finally trickling water down the hillside. I practice taking my deep breaths, feeling like I have all the time in the world, feeling calm. Is it my medicine kicking in? Is it just a natural shift in mood? Is it my detachment from politics? Something has changed. It feels good.
I have at least an hour to go work in my studio now, then more time during nap time. That makes me happy.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 