i write here because this is my space. and i’m not sure where else to sort my thoughts. i’m stuck to the computer. reading every facebook thought, every blog tribute – trying to keep her here.
cath is at her first birth without bri this morning. i’m going about my day slowly. holding the space. i found comfort in the birth images from this video. the tub, the charting, the sling.
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i remember eating breakfast at mimi’s with mom, briana and joanna. they’d just left a long birth. were going to fill their bellies – process the event and head home to sleep. their happy energy amazed me for three women who had been up all night.
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remembering the first tiny beats of what would be my charlie-boy here in my living room with briana and my mother. cath couldn’t find them at first and handed the doppler to briana. she pushed around on my belly and moved the doppler to a new spot. she was all business. then we heard it. swoosh-swoosh-swish-swoosh.
“that’s it.” she said.
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i loved briana for alot of reasons. she’s was simply beautiful. easy to love. but mostly i loved her for loving my mother. for being a real friend to her. when my mom felt far away. when i worried about her sacred birth work – i knew they were in it together. i trusted her hand in my mother’s life. i was grateful for it.
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the facebook messages will eventually stop.
the blog tributes will quiet. briana will still be gone. and i am sad today.
oh, bri. beauty. full. +++ i can’t believe. +++ i am thinking of all the places we’ve been together. the thoughts we’ve shared. your wisdom beyond your years. +++ i am wondering of you. hoping you are safe. and warm. and happy.+++ you have been in every thump of my heart today. every blink of my lashes. every waking moment. +++ the hours keep passing. it’s sinking in. +++ i can’t believe.
we got in the car late on tuesday. i am not a morning person - and hadn't planned on leaving too early, anyway. but i wasn't even packed and it was already nine.
part of me was aching to stay. couldn't bring myself to climb into my silver mini full of boys and leave my family there in the state that we're currently in.
part of me couldn't get home quick enough. home to studebaker street. to andrey. to put us back together as a family of five, minus miss presley.
i decided to check the weather. it would be my deciding factor.
there is a point on the trip home called dead man's pass. it's a twisty winding downgrade through the mountain. at several spots there are warning signs for the truckers - escape ramp! last chance!
it's the place where my mom would round us girls up from the back of the suburban and instruct us to put our seat belts on. and we'd all breathe a sign of relief when we reached the bottom. the scary behind us. full speed ahead. dead man's pass in a snow storm is my worst fear.
weather forecast for tuesday: all good.
i threw our clothes into our suitcase, buckled up the boys and gave jade a quick squeeze goodbye. and we were off. i've done trips in a hurry that way before and they haven't gone well. but it felt a little different this time.
my heart is heavy. these days. and i hit the road to sort my thoughts. miles 1 - 120 were a quiet stream of healthy tears. boys sleeping in the back. i trucked on. i listened to adele and brandi and an episode of this american life.
we stopped in boise at the co-op for a late lunch. turkey and provolone on whole wheat. a scoop of 'p' pasta and a slice of chocolate cake to share. two hansen juice boxes for the lucas and gav and a peach izze for me.
we asked about the nearest park. "the orange park is just around the corner," the cashier told us. so i decided we'd walk. fifteen blocks later we reached camel back park.
but that fifteen blocks of walk? perfection. under popcorn trees. on the perfect evening. gavin asleep in the stroller. charlie shaking his new co-op rattle. lucas practicing his whistle.
on the fifteen blocks of walk back to the car an hour later i spotted orange park tucked back behind the co-op right where it was suppose to be. i'd missed it. on purpose, i think.
press play:
the last few hours of travels required several rest stop breaks to nurse charlie grey. he was craving his bedtime snuggle. the boys were bored. i was out of new tunes.
i filled charlie's belly up to the brim. kissed lucas and gavin on the cheek and put on a movie. "we're almost home, littles."
i plugged in my ipod. turned the dial to every indigo girls song ever made and hit the road, again. i was going to listen to as many as i could. let amy ray and emily sing me home. we reached the summit of the blue mountains right as the sun was going down. this is last little stretch before the lush mountains turn to sagebrush and it's beautiful. the quiet tears started again. i was nearly home and too far away from where we'd come from to turn back.
i slipped through dead man's pass just as a. ray started in on salty south. i thought of the hundred times we've made that trip. as littles. lindsay, natalie, christine and jade. instructed by my mother to put our seat belts on.
I remember the wind As it was settlin' And every sun goin' down was a picture then But we look back at 'em framed They all look the same There's no sense of time, no sense of pain A thousand tides, and A thousand waves Takin' it all away And it'll come back in We'll be gone by then, oh And it's a miracle we ever learned to give
i hit repeat until my mini full of boys and i pulled safely into the driveway.andrey was waiting for us on the porch.
04.07.2011
rainbow banner on the window. his side.
glitter banner in the kitchen. mine.
note to self: he peeks at presents.
a good morning love letter.
decorating cupcakes. frosting on fingers. “that’s an angry bird!” says gavi.
doorstep surprise. kind sewing. sea salt cookies i’ll never forget. i’ll crave!
a smoothie. a sandwich. a cake pop. a full belly. a thoughtful friend.
a phone call i can count on. year after year after year. 15 years. BFF.
cousins! and presents! and rainbow colors! and “oh my gosh!”
wax crayon wrappers. an experiment.
a gazillion happy ‘facebook’ birthdays!
andrey at work. on the roof. in the sunshine. in the clouds.
a brown truck. a big box.
lukey and legos.
a little nursling’s giggles.
dinner date. to anywhere. a parking lot kiss.
a pretzel wants to come home. plants in my pots. thumps my heart.
super hero couch jumps.
candle in a cake pop. “happy birthday to YOU!”
a silver box. a silver bow. a free people prize.
chase wesley walker. six pounds. breathe deep. colostrum text. a-mazing.
xavier rudd. two tickets.
a little square card. from my little sister. to break the ice.
brownies wrapped in paper and string. matroyska stamp. white ink.
black and white plaid. i had to have. and she knew it.
a phone call from my dad.
don’t give up – a paper cut. inspired.
sleeping boys. three little, one big.
so tired.
thirty.
i had a PROJECT: craft hangover the sunday morning after this event. it took every little bit of get-up-&-go to pull myself out from under the covers and off to sunday school. +++ the creative manic that happens during the week before is what i crave. being swallowed up into a detail obsession. we found ourselves fifteen-minutes-‘til-the doors-open with every check box filled. with every finishing touch assembled we said,“now what?!” +++ we did this by ourselves. eight plus one extra kids between the two of us, too. us and the trusting thirty three ladies that clicked on ‘buy tickets now!’ and i’m beaming with craft happy pride. a true collaboration between danyelle and i. my favorite part? when we’d ask each other, “how are you picturing the favors/the ribbons/the name tags?” and then we’d set out putting together what the other was seeing. when my ideas got stuck – she took over and added the just-what-it-needed-touch. it was PROJECT: crafty magic, i tell you. +++ what happens the day after the hangover…? something like this:
dandee: ready for summer edition? lovely lindsay: i’m picturing picnic tables. dandee: and sunshine.
