jet lag

standing in the kitchen this evening, there are things to say ... but when the time came, i found my words imprecise and my command of them ... faulty.


i don't know if it was my asthma, or your home purchase or if i'm just having - what jenni calls - a 'charlotte moment,' but it hit me this morning, in a way i hadn't quite grasped before, how important and how fragile this is.


it takes me by surprise, sometimes - when i least expect it - how comfortable and easy and lovely it feels to be with you. it isn't at all what i expected ... but then, it's the expected that keeps us steady. standing. still. the expected is just the beginning; it's the unexpected that changes our lives. right?


'it's nice to be appreciated,' you said (in that sleepy little voice i love so much). and i can't believe anyone ever made you feel as if you weren't. i can't believe anyone could find fault with those things i find so dear - how could anyone not see how perfect you are in your imperfection? and it's not because we're 'new' or because i'm lost in the sex haze ... my opinion is not clouded by hormones or pheromones or cinnamon toast. i've just come to see that you suit me.


you do.


and it makes me happy in ways i can't even describe. i've also come to see how important this little family is and how much you must miss seeing the girls everyday and how hard it must be to vist the life you had before ... every day. it's a difficult thing to watch.


let's face it, no one believes that their life will turn out just kind of okay. we all think it's going to be great. and from the day we enter into any kind of relationship, we are filled with expectation ... great expectations of who we will be, where we will go. sometimes it takes a long, long time. but we get there. it just doesn't always look the way we think it will. and sometimes it's a million miles from where we thought we'd be - and it leaves us feeling jet lagged. i think that's my problem today. jet lag.


still, i'm right where i want to be. and i hope you are, too.

happy day

it's early, early, early in the morning and i've slipped out of bed to write you this letter.

everyone else is asleep. well, almost everyone ... the cat in my lap is gently 'bathing' the dog's nose as he rests it on my leg ... providing a gentle reminder that we are capable of looking after each other in a kind and careful way.

(wouldn't it be lovely if the world were a place where everybody got his or her needs met and received plenty of acknowledgment? everything is sweeter when we begin to appreciate each other and mutual admiration prevails. )

in a little while, isabella and grace will awaken and pad into the room that serves as bedroom and living room in the loft - the sound of their bare little feet slapping against the concrete will herald their arrival. they will stand next to the bed, watching me for signs of movement and when there are none, they will touch my face and whisper close, 'it's time.'

together, we will raid the refrigerator and i'll help them make breakfast for the man pretending to sleep in the bed nearby. it will be loud. it will be messy. there will be arguing. someone will cry. gone are the days when i could pour myself a cup of coffee and wake up slowly with the world. and i wouldn't have it any other way.

would any of us?

today is father's day. and i miss you.

i wish you could be here to see the sun shining, taste the pancakes - sweet and hot. (gracie and bella can cook pretty well, already. their dad has taught them how. ) and i wish you could meet them.

they are lovely. in every way. and it's because of their dad that they are becoming these amazing little creatures. he treats them as little adults (which, frankly, they don't always appreciate, but they'll be grateful for later). he recognizes them as individuals, not as an extension or reflection of himself. and he always treats them as people he likes (and reminds them to treat themselves and each other that same way).

and if i'm honest, i know it will be mostly due to his example that they have the tools they need to navigate the world ... they will know how to be reasonable and fair and strong and careful and responsible. he will be the reason they prefer convertibles, make a perfect biscuit and find humor in everything ... why they'll make everything from scratch, why they'll set the table with all the silverware, even if they know they won't use it ... why they'll set the table at all.

he is why they will read more than watch tv, laugh more than cry and pay attention when they drive. he is why they'll never make fun of kids who run funny, why they'll try, even when they don't feel like it, yell at political shows on television and why they will sing 'mack the knife' and 'big yellow taxi' to their own kids at bedtime. thanks to him, they know the joy of cats and blind dogs; they won't fear moving to new places where they don't know anyone and they'll know there isn't anything a hug from dad, james taylor or homemade pasta can't fix.

he and his existence in the world flavor everything for them - just as your absence does for me. i so hope they know how lucky they are. i'm pretty sure they do.

through them, i'm celebrating this day for the first time. from now on, i get to see it through their eyes and it's finally something i look forward to.

don't worry ... father's day only makes me a little sad, the way you might expect ... but it doesn't make me long for things that never were. instead, it reminds me of how grateful i am for mom's efforts and her sacrifice and it reminds me, too, that if you had lived, laurie wouldn't exist and i wouldn't know these girls or this man ... and that, i couldn't bear. i wouldn't trade my situation for anything. not anything.

and it might sound silly or slightly insane ... but i know you're present. not right now. or every day, even. but you are. i can tell. and where some folks thank god for the wonderful things that happen in their lives, i thank you. it's an unusual idea, i know. one not often spoken aloud - if ever. the good, the great - and even the unspeakably awful - things that happen in my life, if i haven't created them myself, then i'm pretty sure they come from you - or others who've left this life and moved beyond. tiny joys, valuable lessons, the jolts, the hairpin turns ... someone reminding me to wake up to the wonder of my life.

and this year, that 'someone' comes in tandem, padding across the concrete floor, touching my face and whispering close, 'it's time.'

isn't it funny how life - and death - work out?

happy father's day, dad, wherever you are. and if you're close today, enjoy the pancakes. i made 'em for you.

to whom it may concern ...

dear ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX and CW, etc...

i am a grown up.

and by 'grown up' i mean: i have a job. i am in a relationship (which is not a pre-requisite, by the way). i have friends and pets who i love and who love me. i am no longer 25. i have a hobby. i take vacations. i don't call my mother as often as i should. i worry about my weight and my hair color and my retirement and whether the democrats will stay in power. i buy things (or i used to before the economy tanked and i will buy things again. with a vengeance!). i have a brain. i watch TV.

it bears repeating ... i buy things. i have a BRAIN. I WATCH TV!!

please stop canceling and/or destroying the shows i watch. seriously.

there are others like me out there. i've seen them. i've talked with them ... at work, in line, online ... we LOVE TV. and we're worried you're wrecking it.

see, great writing, complicated (yet realistic) story lines, women who might not look good in bikinis ... these are the things we crave. these are the things we invest in.

we, your grown up audience, are loyal and true. when we find a show we like, we stick like glue. (oh, look. i rhymed.) we tell our friends. we rearrange our schedules. that takes time. we need you to recognize that. three episodes doesn't give us enough time to change our work schedule, find something else for the kids to do, or to figure out when the show is even on.

so, please. stop looking for the next 'friends.' stop trying to recreate 'lost' and 'the x files.' be brave. be bold. support good writing. reward great storytelling. give our shows a chance. develop more shows for us and we won't disappoint you.

listen to us. choose us. love us.

don't give up. save some TV for the grown ups.

warmest regards,

leigh anne

p.s. you understand, right, that if we can't work this out, we're going to have to see other people. i've got cable now and i'm not afraid to use it.

navigation

my apologies for the 'quiet.'

it is a silence is bourne of obligation and activity, friends and a good bit of fun - equal parts 'fundamental' and 'environmental' -and not from a desire to remain at a distance.

my life is good. mostly.

i know this because i've been taking stock ... counting, searching for answers and reasons for it all. and i'd like to think it's the idea of moving or aging or balancing my checkbook that has me out of balance.

but it isn't.

even in the midst of these most glorious of times, i find myself struggling, profoundly, with the idea of the future - and balancing the pleasure of 'now' against the pain of 'before' and the question of 'next.'

i am hoping that the erosion of that which had seemed solid is not wrong; i am hoping it means that something new, something better, something stronger has been created. i think of ice floes, hardened in winter, dispersing in the warmth of spring; when the ice melts, a mighty river emerges. but, i am still hardened in winter ... and i wonder... does it ever get easier? should it? where i used to wear my heart on my sleeve, will i now wear my uncertainty?... branded for eternity with a scarlet 'u?'

i'd like to think that there has never been a question i'd end up here ... that if there is a question, it isn't 'where' or 'who' ... only 'when.' i'd like to think that under my ignorance and along side my real life, there is this mindless certainty, humming blithely along, ensuring i will finally come together with that which is best for me - bringing me to the place where i'll either stumble, crash or live my way into my whole life's happiness. coming to life is never a conscious decision.

it would be simple, at a time like this, to dismiss everyone. but as idiotic and painful as it may be, i am a true believer in that wonderful mythical law of nature that says the three things we crave most in life ... happiness, freedom and peace of mind ... can only be obtained by giving them to someone else.

and so, i'm challenging myself to remember what is good and allowing my imagination to discover the evolutionary potential in these experiences. i am making a conscious decision to delight in even the quirkiest of life's developments.

still, my most fervent hope is to navigate these waters with patience and kindness and few regrets, save for the breaking of hearts. it's a delicate business, this closeness. you can never be sure how hardy another's heart will be. likewise, you can never really know your own - which i quite like, i think.

besides, no one breaks my heart like i do.

undone and undefined

have you ever read heidegger's thing about van gogh? items disappearing into their function?

i've been thinking a lot about that in terms of relationships. it's so easy to disappear into our function - security, sex, service ... and i wonder, how do we reclaim the space where we can be seen again? how do we come into focus once more?

and by 'we,' i mean 'me' ... well, 'i.' how do i come into focus?

i feel fuzzy lately. undefined.

i am not the wife, not the mother, not the boss, not the best friend, not the girlfriend, not the one. i'm neither here nor there, neither coming or going ... standing somewhere in the middle, highlighting some, holding up the others ...

... and crushed under their weight ... crushed under the wait for that kinder, gentler, easier sort of life - the kind others seem to pass through with ease and without knowledge that it could ever be any different.

i know, i know! nobody made me do this ... i chose this life ... i lifted myself right out of the old one ... dorothy's house falling out of the sky ... and landing with a giant thud. i am the cyclone and the witch and the little girl waiting for her eyes to adjust from black and white to technicolor and wondering when the dust will finally settle, wondering where i'm headed, wondering what happens next.

and on this day where i've taken everything personally... i wonder what's mine.

it's no one else's fault that i feel angry or hurt or a million different things tonight. it has nothing to do with anyone in particular and the events themselves are not important. when viewed independently, they are comical almost - their depth and breadth not nearly as heavy as their collective weight. they won't even make great stories one day, the kind i love to tell, laughing so hard in their midst i have to pause for breath to continue.

so i'll just say that the day was long and tiresome and ... heartbreaking; not the heartbreak of losing a lover, but that of losing faith in myself - the sudden knowledge that maybe the world isn't in love with me or against me, just indifferent.

and i may have designed my life so that i'll find myself alone, just as i've come to the middle of it.

and i hope i'm wrong.

the prince has a frog in his throat

'i love you,' he whispered softly.

he took a small halting breath and then he said her name.

'don't think i forgot your name,' he added sweetly, 'i didn't; i just had a hard time getting it out. i was busy choking on the first part.'

at her service

he was shuffling around the kitchen, mopping up the beer he'd spilled and preparing to prepare dinner. she was lying sideways across the bed. 'i don't suppose you'd like to wait on me hand and foot and bring me a glass of water with a straw?'

'don't you know that's what i live for,' he said, as he made his way toward the bed.

she laughed. 'i'm going to remind you that you said that. over and over again.'

'darlin'' he said, as he sat next to her and leaned in for a kiss, 'you won't have to.'