In Pieces

Today, I decided to relieve one of my front lawn gnomes of his duty of holding a front pathway light. Because his arms are molded to his sides, I provided him support with this job by using a black hair elastic. My youngest son awoke me in the middle of the night looking for a black hair elastic, so here I am at a more reasonable hour getting it back for him.

While removing the elastic, the lawn gnome slipped through my fingers and crashed onto the ground. He was knocked clear out of his ceramic boots, and his watering can was rendered useless, having been split in two. I collected the pieces, his pieces. I arranged the boots against the side of the house and balanced him on top of them. Then I balanced the watering can shard back onto the other piece still attached to him. As I walked away, I looked at him and heard “What a bad mother I am” slip from my mouth. It is because of me he is in pieces. Oh, I did my best to put him back together, and I am even thinking about gluing him so his healing is more complete and long lasting and true. 

For a moment, I linger in the sentence that escaped me. I immediately think of my mothering, the mothering I received, and the drastic divide between the two. I make a conscious choice to not revisit the past. The very reason I am home today is to support my youngest son in checking out a new school. And, the reason I was tending to the lawn gnome was to get a hair elastic off of him for my son to use. 

Being a mother has taught me so many different things. It has truly transformed me, and it continues to be my most cherished role, something I do with absolute love in my heart. And, my two sons and my husband are my biggest gift and blessing. I have all the pieces I need. 

My son got me a spider plant, a cactus, and another plant for Mother’s Day. Ironically, he got me things I need to take care of on the day that recognizes all the caretaking that mothers do. I must admit, I was overwhelmed at first. The cactus made me smile because we awarded him The Prickliest Family Member some years back, and gave him a cactus statue to commemorate this. It’s one of the few things he didn’t clean out of his room one weekend when he ushered his childhood out with 10 plus storage bins. Plus, cactuses are pretty resilient I’ve heard. So, not too much of a commitment from me for that one. The other two plants, though. Now I have to remember to water them every week. And what if they get too big for their pots and aren’t comfortable anymore? Then I’ll need to figure out how to safely transplant them.

A few years back, a coworker that I shared a bathroom with had thrown away one of her spider plant clippings. When I saw it in the garbage, I took it out and put it in a cup of water, hoping there was some life still within it. I watched it, day after day on the windowsill, getting more and more brown and withered. The day I finally decided to throw it away, I actually had a pang of sadness. It was dead.

So, now I have three new family members I am responsible for the care of. I am embracing them, and have even said a few things to them as I water them. This is a great connecting point with my son and I, as we watch and talk about how they are already changing. How wonderful.

The How Not To How To Video

Well, my tape dispenser at work is finally empty, so I’m ready to refill it. I was so excited about how many replacement rolls of tape that were in the supply closet. I’ve been requesting a few boxes of small paper clips to join the other supplies in there, but no go yet on that. Back to my sticky situation. Initially, I was going to reach out to our administrative assistant and ask her to show me how to do this. Then, I decided I would challenge myself and figure it out. I didn’t want to pull the mechanism too hard and break it, as the most basic of office supplies are difficult to come by- a tape dispenser would be like gold- probably why there are so many rolls of replacement tape in there. When I couldn’t figure it out, I googled how to change a tape dispenser. The first video I found showed how to put a brand new tape roll into an open and awaiting dispenser. This looked promising. I was tricked by the length of the video. At 45 seconds, of course it would be showing specifically how to get the old empty roll out and put the new full one in. No, it was a Vanna White imposter showing the dispenser as though it was something way more fabulous than it is. Don’t get me wrong, I do love office supplies – but really? Then, the disembodied hands (black sleeves against a black velvet backdrop) kept ripping pieces of tape off and stretching them around in front of the camera before sticking them into one pile. Enter stage left- A piece of paper with a rip on top. The instructional video proceeded to demonstrate how the tape could mend the rip. What the hell. Are you serious? I kept waiting and waiting, believing that the video would show how to pop the core of the empty roll out to allow me to pop a new full one back in. The model roll of tape in this video is very full. I am not willing to watch the several sequels to get to the ending that might or might not show me what I was looking for.

In frustration, I pull hard at the empty tape core in the dispenser. And look at that, it snapped right open. I happily put the new roll of tape in and viola. That was way less than 45 seconds. Maybe I should make a how to video of actually how to replace tape in a tape dispenser.

Rainy Day Carcass

A mangled pile of nylon and metal. Alternating blocks of bright purple and white show just how joyful you once were.

Now here you are, dead on the side of the road. Abandoned by your owner when you could help them no more. You weren’t even moved to a proper final resting place.

Bookmarks

I recently got a book about Stephen Hawking to learn more about him and his life. And, I did learn more about him. But, in doing so, I was left with more questions about a few other people’s lives. You see, the second-hand book I bought had two bookmarks tucked away within its pages. They are strips of pictures from the picture booths set up at weddings and other parties. These celebrated two different weddings. First, I located the common denominator- the guest that shows in both photos. This took a bit to figure out, as the guests had lots of props all over themselves – funky hats, golden star antenna headbands, oversized bright red lips that you hold in place with a stick (kind of like you would hold opera glasses in place but a few levels lower on your face), feather boas, oversized glasses and huge polka-dotted bow ties. Ah, there she is. She went to both Sarah and Patrick’s and Kaitlyn and Keith’s weddings. Now I am curious about how long ago these weddings were. How interesting. Sarah and Patrick wed on July 4th, 2015 and Kaitlyn and Keith wed on December 31st, 2017. Both weddings were on holidays. So, on their anniversaries, there will be celebration all around them no matter how their relationships are going. We know, based on statistics, that one of these couples will be divorced. I study their friend groups in the pictures, trying to read into which couple it will be. Everybody seems so happy. I guess time will tell.

I finished the book and moved to donate it back. I once found a crisp clean and certainly flat 2 dollar bill hidden in a second-hand book I bought at my local library. Into my coin collection the bill went. But, this treasure, these pictures found within the pages, I return to the pages before I usher the book along to my local Goodwill. Sarah and Patrick and Kaitlyn and Keith, I will pass your stories on. And hopefully, you continue in wedded bliss.

Discoveries

As I wait behind a woman in the long black petticoat, pulled tight at the waist, I cannot help but hear her conversation, or more like her announcement.

“I need to be able to squeeze a wedding dress in here to take on the plane tonight”, she says loudly as she tilts her head to one side to further examine the suitcase.

It is covered with dust and has a big tag on it marked $10.

“Oh, that’s not our tag” the man tending to the cash register says.

“Just need it for one night. It’s complicated” she continues her monologue.

The owner of the estate shop comes around to the front counter, interrupting his lunch. He tells her she can bring it back if it is not big enough as he rubs his hands together, presumably to remove any lingering crumbs.

“Well, it will be a while because I’ll be in Hawaii”.

“Oh”, the owner says. Then he motions me over to another part of the counter to tend to my sale. I have chosen 9 unique keys from his secret drawer of old keys that I discovered. I just love his estate shop for this reason. You make all kinds of discoveries as you travel through the store. This one was in a metal tool chest, in one of the drawers marked “look inside”.

I can still hear her, seemingly trying to entice the other worker as she goes on about her wedding. The worker does not seem that interested in her adventure.

“Do you want the suitcase or not? Five dollars and it’s yours”.

Now I’m fully into my world. Her voice goes away. The owner goes though each of my keys, and I watch, each key its own special self. One short and round. Another, long and thin with exaggerated teeth. Yet another very small and very cute.

“Ten dollars for all of them.”

“Can you do any better for me? Remember all those brass keys- that was a big one” I counter. A few years ago, I spent a few hundred dollars on a whole bunch of brass keys- all so beautiful.

“Yeah, I suppose so. The credit card fees- last month $478. I have to fold it into the prices” he explains.

He puts the keys into a little white paper bag and folds the bag top down neatly several times, creating a special little white package.

On my drive back to the office, I get to thinking. There is a draw here to this place. I often wander into the way back back of the store where he has odds and ends of nuts, bolts and the like in glass jars. It so reminds me of my father’s workshop. A special sacred place. A place where my father seemed happy and content, a place he seemed to truly belong.

You see, my father passed a few months ago, and he is on my mind. I have been into my father’s workshop one time since his passing. I am eager to spend more time in there. Chaos and drama as part of the probate and estate does not allow anyone in his workshop at this time. I so am looking forward to spending time in my father’s oasis, his special place of contentment and ease. I see that this is the very sentiment that draws me back to this place where treasures wait for their discovery.

Written February 2018

Subtle Hints

As I peruse my e-mail, a heavy feeling starts to come over me. I can see an over-arching theme emerging from all the individual messages. E-mails for a reverse mortgage, silver singles, life insurance without a physical, an oxygen system that promises to reclaim my independence and freedom, and walk-in tubs. Oh, I see. This is going in a certain direction. No forensic analysis of my e-mail needed to uncover this mystery.

Pristine Scarf

I met a woman today who irons her scarves. She was happy she got a new iron recently as well. Wrinkled garments in my home are relegated to a body for wearing on most occasions, and into the dryer for the more egregious offenders. The last time I used an iron was on a polyester blend pant, which promptly melted. The iron was left with an ugly scar of a melted derivative of plastic or petroleum, I believe. And the pant, a crusty melted spot which looked much worse than the original wrinkles. Now I know. I must say, the woman did look quite nice with her crisp, flowing, and wrinkle free scarf.

Staples Rewards

At the end of October, I received a mailing from Staples. It was four “rewards”, $5 each , distributed one a week through November. I read the details. No purchase necessary. So, this is like five dollars cash, four times over, no strings attached.

Oh, I know the deal. The hope is that when you wander in to find a less than five dollar item to use your reward on that you will find so much more that you cannot leave the store without. My mission, which I chose to accept, is to use each and every reward to get a less than five dollar item (must account for tax!), preferably non-edible and durable.

I decided on a path of building up my clipboard collection. I use them at work quite a bit. In fact, one of my colleagues walked off with one of mine recently, a nice powder blue one. I haven’t figured out how to approach her to ask for it back. I do miss it though. So, clipboards it is.

Each week I walk confidently into Staples, into the proper isle, and chose a clipboard. Four dollars and twenty-seven cents. Under five with tax. Perfect.

Week four. What do I spy? Some new colors? Oh, look, the very blue one that my collegue walked off with! Oh, snap. It’s $5.99. I’ll bring it up front with the usual $4.27 one. You never know if it is on sale. No such luck. So, I stand here for a moment and decide, but just a moment as there is another customer right behind me. No. I cannot open my wallet and hand any money over. I made a commitment to spend under the five dollars.

So, I made it through the four weeks collecting four new clipboards, not spending one penny. But, I know that powder blue one is there. Perhaps I’ll try to trade one of my new clipboards with my colleague for the powder blue one that she walked off with. Or, perhaps I’ll go back to Staples and purchase the powder blue one.

In the end, I did it. I used the rewards without spending any extra money. Not one penny.

The Clock

I have a clock from my father’s room. I keep it on my kitchen counter. As my 14 year old eats breakfast, the sound of his spoon hitting the cereal bowl and the football game he is watching on his I-Pad leaves me questioning if the clock is still working. Because it doesn’t have a second hand, I don’t know right away. I do see that the time is off by an hour, but that is the case because I never reset it when I took it from my father’s room. So, I put it up to my ear and listen. I am comforted by the gentle and perfectly spaced out ticks it exudes.

All at once, I am struck with the symbolism of this. As my day-to-day life fills more space in my head and heart, I have to pay attention more closely, listen more carefully to remember my father. I still miss him so very much. It’s been less than a year. And, the circus known as probate certainly isn’t helping the process. But, even when life has been paused and thrown into grief and chaos , life has a way of creeping back into place. It reminds me of the green vines we have around our light post and mailbox. No matter how many times they are cut back, they grow back. Not all at once. But, over time. And, one day, you notice they have returned, fully, with a vengeance. Just like life after grief. That is how it has to be. I am sure my father would not want me to be paralyzed with grief, unable to care for my family, unable to participate in my career, unable to be in life. So, the strong insidious vines of life grow back in, all around the fixtures of my life. I will let them grow, even invite and encourage them. And, I will hold your memory close to my heart, Daddy. Every day.