Monday, April 7, 2014

My Monthly Post

Last week I was invited to an elementary school play by my friend's daughter.

In another life I spent a lot of time with my friend's family - I was an adopted aunt to her kids.
Once I got married and after Emily was born I didn't see my friends much.
It may not have been the right approach to my life, but at the time, I had a hard time wanting to reach out to those who never even took the time to ask me how Emily was doing.

Back to the play.

I love my friend and her family and wanted to support her daughter and so I went and enjoyed an evening of a grade school version of Seven Brides For Seven Brothers.

When it was over I came home and cried for an hour.
My mom asked me about the play the next day and when I told her I cried she wanted to know why.

I had a hard time putting it into words.
My friend and her family represent a time in my life that was easy...a time that was carefree...and also a time that was tied to one of the greatest heartbreaks I have endured.

One of these days I'll write about that.

Other than her kids getting older, her life is basically the same as it was four years ago, and I feel as if I've lived fifteen years in that four year time span.  And my life is not even a little bit easy or carefree right now.

(I wouldn't change it - for the record...well, I wouldn't change my little family. I could use a break from some of the other part of the hard that is my life.)

"I no longer relate to her," is what I told my mom.
"She doesn't have any idea of the life I've lived because she chose not to be a part of it.  I can't possibly fill her in on the details of my life, and I'm not even close to the same person I was then."

And because I haven't built other memories with her, the memories that stand out are ones that make me sad - because as ridiculous as it seems - I have never felt closure over the heartbreak I went through when we spent so much time together.

How do you continue a friendship based on that?  Or do you?

I love my friend and would do anything in the world for her and her family - I just feel like I've become a stranger.

Does any of this even make any sense?

* * *

See - this is why I don't write - it must surely come out as a jumbled mess!

* * *

In other news:

Emily is doing great.  She is happy - she is healthy - and she's in love with Bubble Guppies.
Have mercy.
One day she discovered Amazon Prime on my iPad (don't ask me how) and she found a new world of shows.

She's learned how to effectively communicate 'no' and shakes her head at Jason and me twenty seven million times a day.
Next to playing in the park, bath time is her favorite activity.
She loves to lick frozen Otter Pops (when they're in the package ... not if there's a chance she'll get any flavor) and asks us to open the freezer over and over again so that she can get a fresh one.

As for Jason and me ...
We need more sleep and the busy season for both of our jobs is here.
I'm not sure how we will get everything done that we need to, but we'll give it our best effort.

Tonight I tried to jump up and grab onto the monkey bars at the park and nearly killed my elbow.
A young girl from our neighborhood was there and she had been peppering me with questions every time I climbed to the top of the slide that she claims ownership of.

"What is your favorite bird of prey?"
"What is your favorite type of wolf?"
"What is your favorite wild cat?"
"What is your favorite bird?"

She's on the Asperger's spectrum and has an incredible wealth of information in her head.

I answered her questions and her reply was always something like, "did you know the giant panda is endangered?"
I learned more about endangered animals tonight than I've ever known.
At one point I looked at her and asked, "how in the world do you know this stuff?"

"It's just there, floating around in my mind," she told me.

But back to the elbow.

(I can't keep a train of thought to save my life.)

I yelped in pain when I tried to grab onto the monkey bars and she asked over and over again if I was hurt.
I told her that I had broken my elbow during the winter and she said, "You are still healing."

I guess she's right.
No more monkey bars for me.
It's good we have the swings.












2 comments:

Mr. Thompson and Me said...

Just for the record: yes, it makes sense: no, it's not a jumbled mess; and you look like a hot momma in that pic (said in a non-creepy way!).

I say it all the time and I mean it - you have a gift for writing my dear friend. But stay off the monkey bars, ok? :)

Venassa said...

It makes me a little sad reading about your friend. Sad that you've grown apart, but more sad that she doesn't try to be a part of your and Emily's lives. I don't know you or Emily but I like being updated on how she's doing.

Monkey bars were always my least favorite, but I always have and always will love swings.