pitstop, march 18

FB ‘on this day’ reminds me that three years ago today I’d packed up all three kids for a two day road trip to southern California. The caption of the post, “Pitstop. Yep, they’re are still here,” above a photo that I’d taken at a stop in Medford. The trunk of the Jeep is open, rear door high up pointing toward the sky. Rear trunk space bursting at the seams with everything we can hope to need for what should have been a spring break getaway. Firework burst of flowers on an army style duffle, full of who knows what but will eventually be emptied and used as a dirty clothes bag, laying on it’s side toward the front and surely being squished when the rear door slams down. Pink yoga mat crammed into an in-between space, duffle bags on one side and backpacks on the other. One of the girl’s gray and neon green track shoes peeking out of a paper grocery bag on the left. Red carry-on suitcase stacked on top of black and white polka dot duffle bag on the right. Pastel butterfly pillow perched atop it all, easily accessible to the lazy arm of my 9 year old when she gets sleepy. Above all of this, in the narrow space between luggage and the soft of the gray roof, peek the smiling faces of my three children. They’re in the backseat, turned around facing back, propped up high on their knees, peering out with goofy grinned faces. My son is in the middle between his two big sisters. His hands up by his ears, a shoe in each hand dangling by his fingertips look like giant puppy dog ears on either side of his head. All three kids eager to arrive at our destination the next day. Excited to see friends and family and the familiar places of what used to be home.
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bluetooth connections from the grave

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I pull open the car door. Climb in. All the soft blurred in shape lines of my body settle into the soft worn blurred in shape contours of the leather seat. Feel the cold steel metal of the key in my hand as I slide it into the ignition, and turn. The machine stretches and yawns and let’s out a low rumble as it awakens and comes to life.

I sit for a moment in the silent cocoon of the space. Feeling the car stretch and shake out all its limbs. Feeling the vibration of the engine as it pulsates through metal and plastic and leather and skin and muscle and bone.

Silently, and without hesitation, phone and car reach out and search for each other. Mysteriously connecting over the airwaves. Desperate to feel the fingertip touch of current and connection. A heartbeat that allows them to communicate.

I’m sure I haven’t turned on the Bluetooth on my phone.

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how i do grief, and my serious mad girl crush on Jeanette LeBlanc

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I have a little grief gremlin in my head, he moved in at 3am PST on March 25, 2014….he took up residence while my mama was taking her last breath here on this earth and my heart cracked wide open and a huge gaping hole knocked my world off it’s axis.

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yesterday i failed…today, a slight perspective change

I wrote this yesterday, after an especially emotionally difficult week, weekend, day. I was far far far down the rabbit hole. My train had derailed. This grief and mourning and living and thriving thing….it’s all shit. And it’s not for the faint of heart. None of it.

I wasn’t going to share this here, for all to see. Pity party, table for one please. But I shared my words with some of my tribe, and something beautiful and amazing and inspiring happened. There was no pity. There was no judgment. There was acceptance, and love, and space, and encouragement, and HOLY SHIT YES I FEEL THAT TOO! And THAT, my friends, is the point. Connection, it’s soul-saving. It is.

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