Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Calm Closing Sense of Complete...

The old rice filling up the pot was the most beautiful thing. Suspended in water, and hugged by each molecule. It was lovely as I tipped the pot and let it spill over into the sink. Swirling like a sea of stars, the rice was over taken by the gravity of the drain. I flipped the switch to let it be eaten by the sink machine. It sucked it in gladly and away the rice went. That thing eats more than my kids. What a waste of lovely rice, what a terrific sacrifice.

You know what I miss....? I miss driving home from my job. It was such a relief and good feeling. I would turn my music up really loudly and lean way back in my Mini Cooper seat. When I last had a job I was really into Pinback, which isn't particularly a band one plays loudly, but it sounded so good in that car. I listened to the mix CD I made over and over. Driving down the canyon was a blast in that car. I could go so fast so easily, not even afraid of slippery curves. I know Parleys like the bad of me hand. After the season ended in Park City, I worked downtown. That was also a fun drive home, all the people and the cars to look at, wondering where everyone was going and who they went home to. Any drive home was a good one....I felt accomplished and that I had really earned my living. I worked very hard at the spas. I made it a personal mission to "take care," of these strangers and let them know that they deserved to feel good and relax.

Now I am on the other side...needing to feel good and relax. My days are hard and long, but full of love. I get to take care of the people I enjoy most. There is just no drive home. No sense of completion or relief, because this job does not stop. Even when I am away, I am here. It makes no sense this mommy occupation. I love it, it frustrates me, I question myself constantly and get to the breaking point, then I get hugs and kisses and it melts away. The days are schizophrenic and controlled, the deep, the scars, the emotion that rises and falls- all swirling like a sea of stars. I am in it all for keeps.

In my imagination, as I move through my days, some one beautiful brushes my hair, wraps it in a towel to keep it clean as she washes my face, and takes care of this stranger. Some day I will become reacquainted with that relief, that calm closing sense of complete and it will be good for everyone. But as for now I have pots of old rice that are beautiful in their sacrifice, snotty noses to wipe, and applesauce to clean up. I notice everything and keep it close. For when I am away, I want to remember what I have to come home Crazy, dirty, crying, snuggly, you... and we are all better when Mom comes home.