I don’t know her; I didn’t, ever. Maybe when I was a baby. Very small. I don’t remember.
Last year my dad almost died. No, not for theatrics, almost died. He was septic on the side of the road, in shock. In hyperglycemia, and sepsis. He almost died. He didn’t. He’s back to work now. I think about him. Every day.
We didn’t get along. She loved me but I was a mess and she was not sure what to do with me and we were a mess. I grew up and now we are happy. Most of the time we are happy. It’s different now. I’m afraid to write it. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It was hard. And cold. And windy. It was different.
I said I love you first. I told him, I know you don’t feel the same way, but it’s the truth that I love you and I’m not going to be afraid, and I’m not going to worry that you don’t feel the same way. So, I love you. He was quiet, and said, ok.
Sometimes I am afraid I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t. I’m a great mom, and a beautiful mom, and a terrible mom, and maybe the worst mom. Ever. I’m a good mom. I’m a mom. Yeah, that feels true. I’m a mom.
I don’t know why I didn’t know myself a year ago. Now I know myself. I know where I fit. I did not fit, it did not fit, something did not fit. It did not. Too loose here, too tight there. No good. But just fine. It was fine. I was definitely ok. It’s better now.
Birds. How long have I been beguiled by birds? Owls and hummingbirds and eagles, and doves. And chickens and quail and ptarmigan and…more owls. And oh my. How long? He says a long time, you didn’t know? I didn’t.
It’s hot. We can’t breathe. There’s too much snow and not enough rain and it’s dry. The fires. The planet is taking care of some things. It’s taking care of some things. All the water…drought…flooding…smoke. It’s hot. The sun is red. The moon is red. My eyes are red.
I want him to stop talking. He’s sending away our friends. He’s sending away my children’s friends. He’s making us mean. People spit when they talk to me. When they talk at me. We are a little lost. Lots of us don’t know. It’s dizzying. We’re dizzy.
Friends in the smoke. Friends in the water. Friends sent away. Friends spitting when they talk. Things are different.
Photo by Bill Williams on Unsplash
