Originally published February 9, 2014 on http://www.thespin.blog.com

Once there was a young girl who was destined to create great things.

She was smart and beautiful and talented. She could paint a picture with her music and tell a story with her paints. She was filled with faith in God and joy in life. This girl was proud but not arrogant. She was proper but not prude.

When she laughed, it rose up from the depth of her soul and when she loved, it came from the bottom of her heart.

Her world was wide open.

She would be an ambassador, perhaps, to promote civil negotiations between her country and its neighbors. She believed in fairness, justice and equality. She might even be president of her country to make sure that her people lived in peace and prosperity. So she began learning things that an ambassador should know, studying languages and filling her head with Spanish and English and French. The she added a little German for good measure.

Maybe she would be a famous singer and bring her music to the world. She danced and sang every day. She sang to the birds in the treetops as she did her chores and danced between rows of fruit trees until the sun went down. She performed at parties for family and friends and then at galas for generals and dignitaries. Being a musician was definitely a possibility.

But then, she could also be an artist. She doodled beautiful birds in the margins of all her school books. Hummingbirds, parrots, and pudgy little lovebirds fluttered around the pages. She sketched all the dresses she wanted to fill her closet with and designed the wedding dress that she dreamed to wear one day. 

Maybe she would be an engineer or…a doctor. A surgeon that would figure out medical mysteries and perform life-saving operations. She was certainly smart enough.

But she was also beautiful enough to be a beauty queen. What an honor it would be to represent her country on a Miss Universe stage! She would cry just a little as she accepted the crown and her whole country would cheer.

Which amazing path should she choose? Which talent should she follow? What a wonderful dilemma to have!

She decided to follow her heart. Her heart was full of faith and hope and love. So as her adventure began, she married and had a daughter and two sons. She left her country, her home, her mother and went to a new land where she was seen as an oddity because of the color of her skin, not light enough or dark enough to quite fit in anywhere.

But she knew she was destined for greatness. She still believed in fairness and equality and she would teach her children to believe in it, too. She was still proud, especially of her brand new addition – a little girl.

When her heart was broken, she still believed in love and she found it again. She added one more little girl to her brood.

When her heart was broken once more, she didn’t let it break her. Instead she let music heal her home and mend her heart. She drew pictures of birds and dresses and flowers to make her children smile. She let them see that they were beautiful but she made sure they stayed humble. They knew that they were smart but she didn’t let them get arrogant.

She taught them to dance.

She gave them the strength to be fighters and the tenderness to be lovers. She taught them to embrace adventure and the wind in their hair while riding a motorcycle. She taught them to fish and to not give up when the fish weren’t biting.

She gave them faith.

She laughed and it filled her children’s souls. She loved and it filled their hearts.

When her home emptied of children, she refilled it with God. She brought His word to those with open hearts and shared His promise of peace. She sang praises to Him and drew pictures of what His kingdom might look like here on earth.

She studied more languages so that she could teach anyone she met about the bible. She devoted the rest of her life to serving him and serving others.

Then the day came when she began looking back on what her life had been instead of what it might be. She wasn’t an ambassador or an artist. She wasn’t a beauty queen or surgeon or world famous singer.

She had been destined to create great works and destiny had failed her.

All the things that had filled her beautiful mind and her wonderful heart began to desert her. They left her lonely and afraid. They left her lost.

As the light grew dim, she looked at the five strangers gathered around her with love and sadness in their eyes. She wondered why they should have so much pain and she wanted to comfort them as a mother would comfort her own children.

It was then that she recognized them. These strangers, these children…no, HER children. THESE were her great works.

These were her GREATEST works!

They were beauty queens and fighters for justice. They were amazingly intelligent and artistically gifted. They were joyful and generous, loyal and kind. Music fed their spirits and dancing freed their souls.

She remembered the first shiny white shoes of a gorgeous little blonde headed girl. And she remembered that same little girl giving her brother a haircut for their family portrait. She remembered praying at the bedside of her too-adventurous son. She remembered shopping for wedding dresses and dancing at weddings. She remembered building congregations from the ground up and then filling them with worship. Homecoming courts, football games, awards assemblies, art shows, school plays – she remembered it all!

She remembered grandbabies. THIRTEEN of them! And two wonderful great-grandsons. 

SHE REMEMBERED.

She remembered the sound of their laughter filling her home.

And she remembered their love.

She was no longer lonely. She was no longer afraid. She was no longer lost. She knew that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Her heart was full. Her work was done.

So she slept.

Once there was a young girl who was destined to create great things.

Once there was an old lady who fulfilled her destiny.

In loving memory of my mother
Aquilina Demaris Flores Martinez Ward Roberts
January 22, 1941 – February 9, 2014

I’m not usually one of those people that goes around quoting the great thinkers. Usually, I’m quoting Disney movies, commercials and random song lyrics but lately I can’t seem to get the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson out of my head. He said, “Once you make a decision the universe conspires to make it happen.” And I think he’s right. (Thanks, Universe!)

I decided a long time ago to be happy.

Today, as I reflect on the things I’m thankful for, I am overwhelmed by how many of those things came at just the right time. Not at “my” right time but when the Universe said I was ready. At a time when I would truly appreciate the delicate string of coincidences that brought me to that place!

One of my favorite coincidences is when baby Ladybug and I went to an event downtown. Downtown was her happy place when she was little. She loved the shops, the noise, the hustle and bustle AND THE DOGS! Everybody here has a dog and she had to pet every single dog in the city before her downtown excursion was complete.

This one particular night, we were walking towards a group of three or four guys and they had a tiny English bulldog puppy. I was fairly certain we were not the target audience for this group of handsome single guys but they stopped and introduced their puppy, Munson. They patiently waited while dog and girl wiggled, sniffed and hugged each other. Then they were off. As we walked away from them I thought to myself “what nice guys!” I turned to look back at them one more time but the one in the blue jacket was looking back at me! He smiled. I smiled. The Universe smiled and whispered, “Patience, Darlin’.” Ladybug dragged me off to pet more puppies.

Fast forward a year or so to spring 2005…My stepsister introduced us to this really nice guy that she worked with. Spoiler: he turns out to be my Big Love. Big Love liked me. I liked Big Love. I hoped Ladybug would, too. So, we arranged to bump into each other at a local kid/dog park. I brought my kid. He brought his friend’s dog that he was keeping for the weekend. I spotted him in the parking lot and asked Ladybug if she recognized anybody.

I’m pretty sure I heard the Universe call out, “Aaaaaaand…ACTION!”

She squealed with delight and shouted, “Munson!!!” I don’t know how she remembered the dog’s name. I don’t know how she recognized him as the same tiny puppy because now…he. was. fat. It took me a minute to make the connection but it was them, Munson and Big Love – the smiling guy in the blue jacket.

And the Universe sighed contentedly, “You’re welcome.”

Another of my favorite coincidences was more recent (2015) when I ended up getting a job that I didn’t apply for and that wasn’t even available. Big Love and I had recently walked away from ruining our Tire Shop because it was also ruining us. At the time, we were both working for THE BEST home improvement store. I enjoyed the work and liked the people. I thought I was happy. The Universe said, “Oh, you’re cute. Watch this.”

Ladybug was interested in working with kids and thought she might test the waters as a parapro but she had no idea how to become a para. Me neither. We did a little research online and looked at the open positions but that didn’t quite answer all our questions. I decided to just go through the application process myself and then I could talk her through it. I went in with my resume in hand and asked about the positions that were posted online. The nice lady said they were already in the interview process for one of the jobs but for ParaPro jobs I needed to pass the test or if I had a degree I could just start applying. I said, “I’ve got some of those. See! Here’s my resume!” She looked it over and spotted some familiar places. We chatted about friends in common and how in the world did I go from University to Tire Shop to Home Improvement? I told her an abbreviated version of the whole story. Not very abbreviated, actually. I talked way too much! When I left she knew way more than she needed/wanted to know about me and I knew everything that Ladybug needed to do to get her ParaPro certificate!

And then the Universe shouted with glee, “Buckle Up, Buttercup!”

I drove straight home (5 miles away) and before I could get the front door unlocked, my phone was ringing. “Would I be interested in an interview? For what position? I thought that position was closed. It IS but you want me to interview. Ummmm…Okay.” Coincidentally, the nice lady that I happened to chat with was doing the hiring. So, I interviewed.

It went terrible.

No, I’m serious. I talked way too much. At one point, I actually said “I believe that children are our future! Ummm…don’t worry. I won’t sing.” Yes. I said that. AND THEN they said, “Tell us about a time that you faced an ethical dilemma and how you handled it.” I basically told them, “My boss told me to do a bad thing. I did it but I knew I shouldn’t have and it still bothers me to this day. And as I’m telling you this I’m realizing that I probably should have picked a different story. One where I DIDN’T do the bad thing.”

They smiled politely, shook my hand and told me I should hear from them by the end of the following week. Great! THANKS! I can’t wait to read my rejection letter!

The next day, I was riding down the road to Myrtle Beach for a family reunion when they called and said they wanted to make me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. They really value integrity and the story that I told showed that not doing the right thing sincerely bothered me.

So, they said they wanted to pay me great money to work at a job that was basically designed for me, with friends that would turn into family and lead to Ladybug getting a volunteer position that would lead to a job at City Hall that would lead to a job working with kids (Which is why I was there in the first place!!). There would be loads of vacation time and Friday afternoon dance parties. I accepted the position and then I submitted an application.

The Universe shrugged and said, “It’s what I do.”

SO many of the people and things that I am truly grateful for have come from tiny coincidences. I have one of my best friends because when I walked into her office she happened to be putting a picture into a frame. I was like “Hey, white girl. Why do you have a picture of a little brown boy on your desk?” She patiently answered my inappropriate question. That lead to 14 years of many more inappropriate questions and lots of laughter, some tears and a whirlwind trip to Florida to say goodbye to my mom.

I have the other best friend because when I was in third grade, my nephew happened to be born during the school day and they announced it over the loud speaker. She thought that was cool. Then she thought I was cool. A lot of years later, we still stay up all night giggling like a couple of third graders but now it’s in places like the beach, the mountains, or New York City. (NEW YORK CITY?!?!?)  (Yep.)

I am also grateful that one day last month, my sister went into her extra bedroom looking for something. The item she needed was up on a shelf that she couldn’t reach so she stood on a Rubbermaid bin. The lid gave way and her foot went straight through it. Well, crap. She wasn’t hurt, just annoyed so she untangled herself and wrestled the broken tub from its snug little corner. She started looking through some of the long forgotten paraphernalia and it was there that she found them – two lovely little sheets of paper covered with words. MY words. She found “The Last Love Letter”.

The Universe feigned humility and giggled, “No applause, please.”

Okay, now you’re just showing off.

There are few chores that I like less than laundry. It’s not the sorting and washing that I mind. I could do that with my eyes closed – but then they probably wouldn’t be sorted very well. It’s the folding and putting away. I don’t wanna do it!

Why do we have all these clothes anyway? And how is it that every single article of clothing gets dirty every week? How many people live here?!?!?!?

I am worn out. I need to go back to work to recover from this weekend! I spent a large part of this weekend doing laundry from beginning to end. I’m sure that’s how “normal” people do it all the time but normally, I would wash and dry and then leave the clothes in the dryer until somebody else gets motivated to put them away. I couldn’t get away with that this time. There was just too much to do. We’ve had some busy weeks and weekends lately. Not many chores have gotten done but we’ve sure had a lot of fun.

LadyBug turned 21 in August! There were birthday dinners, a kayaking trip, mom/daughter movie night, a trip to a brewery for tacos & music, and lots of presents! Mostly cash because she’s saving up for a trip to New York City. NEW YORK CITY!

She’s also been working at a local pizza place/arcade and was wearing herself out – physically and mentally. It was supposed to be a summer job but it kind of spilled over into her regular job and THAT was just too much. She doesn’t have her own vehicle yet so that meant the mom taxi was in full operation on weekends. It was rough for a little while but she started it so she needed to finish it (unlike the laundry). Fortunately, for everybody she worked her last shift last night. Her upcoming weekends should be a little less hectic. Mine too, hopefully!

The Boy has been pretty restless all weekend. He has exhausted me. He met his daily quota for questions by noon on both days! He’s watched a couple of movies, sent some emails and made a slide show in Google slides. He built a jail, took a dog-shaped balloon as his prisoner and then taught the balloon Kung Fu to help it escape. He turned his bedroom into a dojo and then changed his name to better suit a Kung Fu master. He can’t find his new gray sketchers but he has found every old toy that I sat aside for the give away box (and of course, played with all of them and they are all his favorite). He called a family meeting and held a drawing for a key card pass to his room. He has played every single game we have on the XBox. And I have heard so. many. puns.

The weather has been gloomy so I’m sure that’s part of it but also, I think he’s nervous. He volunteered to perform in his music class tomorrow. He plans to play his guitar and sing The Apology Song from The Book of Life. It’s a great song. Very soulful and a bit of a tear jerker if you’ve seen the movie. I’m sure he thought this would be a great opportunity to show off a little for his friends and I’m sure his music teacher is excited to hear him play this lovely song. There’s only one problem…

He has had exactly ONE guitar lesson.

Basically he knows the names of the strings and the parts of the guitar. Oh and he knows how to hold it. I think the teacher is expecting a little bit more than that, though. I’m trying not to discourage him. We had a long talk about what to do if the class cheers when he finishes (be gracious, say “thank you” and “I’m sure I’ll get better with practice”) and what to do if the class doesn’t cheer when he finishes (be gracious, say “I’m sure I’ll get better with practice”). 

Part of me wants to be supportive. Another part of me wants to make up some lame excuse to pick him up early tomorrow. But he wrote down all the words to the song. He has strummed and strummed and strummed. Never the same chord twice but he has definitely strummed. I have to let him finish this and just be there to cheer if it goes great or buy the ice cream if it goes terribly. That is really hard sometimes.

I’m kind of glad this weekend is almost over. I think this upcoming week will be a little easier for LadyBug, knowing that when she finishes her work week she won’t have to go to a second job. I’m sure The Boy will relax a little once he survives his live performance. Maybe we can begin to get into a groove for this school year with more balance between work/chores/play. I already feel better now that the laundry pile is much, much smaller! Maybe next weekend, I’ll clean The Boy’s room! No, wait, next weekend I’m doing a 5K. Oh well, eventually everything will get done.

For now, I’m gonna go lay out my nice, clean clothes for work tomorrow. Help LadyBug make her plan for the week and get The Boy to bed.  He just walked out of his room and asked me if I would help him make some clothes for his StickBots.

No, Boy. That’s just more laundry!

I had planned to share that last love letter that I wrote to my mom but it seems to be lost. Forever.

The site that I posted it on back in 2014 is now extinct and apparently there’s no way to recover my post. I searched everywhere for a printed copy and then I searched the laptop that I wrote it on, my external hard drive, my entire archive of emails, and all the jump drives I can find (but I’m sure that there are more jump drives somewhere. Probably hanging out with all the scrunchies I’ve ever owned and socks from the dryer).

It’s gone.

I keep trying to think of some other place to look for it but I have run out of ideas. Unless somebody happened to print it and save it for 4+ years, it’s definitely gone. I’m pretty sad about it. I cried a lot yesterday but right in the middle of my crying spell the bff texts me. It’s like she knows. She’s so weird. Anyway, I think I’m just going to have to deal with it. **sigh**

I declare today Womp Womp Wednesday.

The little bit of good news is that in my search, I found a Jurassic Word Document that I had to turn in for a class. It has stats and details from my blog, Spinning Plates and it has some of the posts. Not the one I was looking for but some that I enjoyed reading.

I want to share one of those posts with you (it’s actually the post from this day, seven years ago) but first I have to give you a brief background.

At the time I wrote this particular entry The Boy was <1, LadyBug was 14, I was working full time, going to school part time, and my professor had declared that not only did we have to create a blog and write at least once a week but WE HAD TO SHARE OUR WRITING WITH OTHER HUMANS. It terrified me. So, I had a heart attack.

Not really.

I was sure it was a heart attack but the EKG disagreed with my professional opinion. The doctor basically said that I was stressed out but fine for the time being. She suggested I find a way to release some stress and that blog became a great way for me to do that. I found that it is a lot easier to share your writing when you don’t have to sit there waiting for the person to finish reading it. (Awkward!) I also found that humans, my humans anyway, are pretty great. Gentle and warm and supportive. Those are some of my favorite qualities in humans! And also bras.

I hope you like this one!

This Too Shall Pass  Originally published September 12, 2011 on http://www.thespin.blog.com

Usually Monday’s are terrible but after Friday’s excitement I was ready to get back to a little bit of normalcy. Ready for my family to stop looking at me like I might spontaneously combust at any moment. Ready for the teenager to quit worrying about me. Although it was nice to have her be so sweet to me for a whole weekend!

Don’t get me wrong. She is a wonderful child! But she’s a teenager. She rolls her eyes at me on a daily basis. I know that she loves me but its hard for two people who are so much alike to get along. And she is JUST like me. (I don’t know how people put up with me.) If she wasn’t so cute I would have sold her to the Gypsies a long time ago.

This weekend was different though. After I explained to her why I was in the hospital and what the doctors said, she seemed fine. She listened to everything I had to say and made a very sweet gesture of refilling my water glass and straightening my blankets. Then she went about her business as usual.

It wasn’t until she had been asleep for a couple hours and I was reading “Three Cups of Tea” that I hear her climbing out of her loft bed (unfortunately the entire neighborhood can hear her climbing out of that damn bed). She walked into my room all sweaty, sniffling and covered with tears and looked at me with a face that I haven’t seen since the last time I had to check for monsters under her bed. I instantly knew that she had a bad dream and she needed mommy to make it all better.

Yes, you read that correctly. My big tough teenager NEEDED MOMMY (that’s me) to make it all better! In the few seconds that I looked into those big teary eyes (with THE longest eyelashes in the world) I saw the tiny curly headed little girl that needed me so many times. I could almost feel me scooping her up into my arms and holding her tight, giving her noonie (noonie = rubbing her very softly with just the tips of my fingernails) and singing to her until all was right with the world again. I could ALMOST feel…oh wait…uhhhhhh…she’s climbing into my bed…she’s flopped on top of me!…Oh God…when did she get so enormous????

And there she laid with her big pointy elbow in my spleen, gently sobbing. Well, she’s a teenager and I’ll take her lovin’s any way I can get it.

Then she told me all about her bad dream. It was terrible. She said I was dropping her off at school and when she turned around to wave goodbye I was passed out. She called 911 and when they got there (instantly because there’s no traffic in dreams), they told her I was dead and took me away from her. Forever.

By the time she got to this part OF COURSE I’m sobbing too. She never showed that she was THAT worried. She listened to everything I told her. She was bummed when I said we weren’t going to the football game. She didn’t have any questions. So why was she so distraught now? Because she’s JUST like me. She keeps all her worries (SO many worries) inside until they’re bigger than her and come bursting out of her seams (or perhaps has a pretend heart attack).

We had a great talk about how I love her so. I promised to take better care of myself so that I will be around for her and the boy for a long, long time. I told her that she needs to learn to let go of some of her worries too because this situation seems very big and oppressive right now but “this too shall pass”. Everything does. When you’re so heartbroken that you think SURELY the sun is not going to rise tomorrow – it does. It just keeps on shining, taking us to one day after another. And each day that big oppressive weight on your shoulders gets a little bit lighter. I told her that one day (many MANY years from now) when I do leave her that the sun will keep shining until it doesn’t hurt so much and she will be just fine because everything I’ve ever told her is inside her somewhere and when she needs it most or when she least expects it, she will hear my voice and smile.

And then we both smiled.

She squished me for a little bit longer and then I sent her back to bed. And then I took my own advice. I let go of SOME of my worries about her. She’s going to be just fine. WE are going to be just fine.

Tonight she came out to kiss me goodnight after her shower and asked “What do I smell like?” (our nightly ritual) I sniffed her and said “Smelllllls liiiiiike……Guacamole!”

“MOM!” She giggled and rolled those big ol’ brown eyes. But that’s okay. The eye rolling, the sass, the skinny jeans – They too shall pass.

 

It’s funny how you don’t always know when you’re doing something for the last time. Somebody once told me to ponder the fact that one day you’re holding your baby and you put them down AND THEN YOU NEVER PICK THEM UP AGAIN. That was the last time you carried your baby in your arms.

I pondered it. I didn’t like it (but it wasn’t terrible).

I don’t usually mind getting to the last of something. In fact, one of my favorite lines from a song is “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” Pondering the last time I picked up my baby just means that he is growing up strong & healthy and he is able to carry himself around until one day he’s carrying me!

Usually, I’m okay with endings. Usually.

If you know me personally, you have probably read a poem or story that I have written. Maybe you kept up when I blogged (occasionally). Maybe I left a love note on your window. Or maybe you’ve read a Facebook post that I poured my heart into. You know I enjoy words. I love to brew the perfect potion of words that conjures up long lost feelings and memories in the reader. It fills my soul when somebody I love savors the sound of my words and falls into my stories heart first. That is my love potion. That is my magic elixir that heals my hurts and heightens my joys.

If I have written to you or about you (or if you think I wrote about you – you’re so vain)…it means I love you. Even if I wrote mean words to you, it means I care enough about you to share my precious words. (Also, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. Sometimes, I get a little carried away with my words.)

I never thought my words would come to an end but on New Year’s Day of 2014, a chain of events began that left me with no words.

On January 1, 2014, I wrote the last love letter.

My sister called that morning and told me that things were not going well with my mama and I should probably get down there but she wasn’t sure if I would make it in time. She didn’t want me on the road while I was waiting for news like that. She told me to wait a little while and they would keep me posted. So, I waited and while I waited I wrote that last love letter with my whole heart and soul and all my beautiful words. I wrote it with stops and starts, with tears and laughter, with love and so, so much sorrow.

I totally understood that I should not be driving in that emotional state. Plus, I had responsibilities. I had a 3 year old son (The Boy) and a 16 year old daughter (LadyBug). My husband (Big Love) and I had a tire shop that we were ruining together (not a typo-I’ll tell you about THAT later). I couldn’t just hop in a car by myself and drive home. So, I did what any logical, reasonable person would do. I called my BFF and cried until I was out of tears. Then I got on my treadmill and ran until I was too tired to feel anything anymore, including my legs.

AND THEN…my BFF called me back and she said, “Let’s go. I’ll be packed by the time you get to my house.” I said, “Okay” and then I packed up myself and my love letter, Ladybug and The Boy, and we left.

We stayed for a week and I was so glad that I got to spend that week with my mom. The Boy sat on her bed and read stories to her. We sang to her and brushed her hair. We made a few more memories while there was still time. Then, she seemed to be stabilizing so we came back home. I tucked the letter away for another time.

You see, that letter…it was a love letter to my mom, about my mom, that she would never get to read. I wrote about her life and how there were so many things that she aspired to, really huge, world-changing aspirations. She planned to do great things but when it came down to it she decided to live a simple life and raise great children. I guess it was also a love letter to my siblings because I really do think they turned out pretty great.

A month later, I got the call that they were moving her to the Hospice House. The Boy and I made the trip again. Again, I brought the letter. I would have loved to read it to her but I couldn’t. It was written “In Memory” of her but she was still here. Only…she wasn’t. Not really.

My mom had dementia. She fought that filthy thief that stole the 4 or 5 languages that she spoke and the wealth of knowledge she accumulated from the many books that she read. Eventually it stole her ability to read. It stole her peace of mind and independence. It stole her away from me and it stole my words. That letter was the last time I sat down and wrote from the bottom of my heart.

Until today.

Sure, I’ve written stuff since then but my voice has changed. What used to flow so easily, suddenly requires so much effort. It requires a lot of thought instead of just pouring out of my heart. I’m untrusting of the words that were once so loyal to me!

There’s something about losing a parent that changes you. It’s like joining a club that you had no interest in joining but you have to because only people who have experienced it really understand it. Losing my mom was just the first of many events that continued to crush my spirit. It was a rough couple of years. I tried putting it down on paper to process it all but I just had no words. I’ve been a little broken ever since. I think I’m doing a pretty good job of putting the pieces back together except I still can’t listen to certain songs without crying. Actually, that’s not new. Music does that to me but I’m a work in progress.

That’s right…IN PROGRESS! I’m not done yet.

Usually, I’m okay with endings. But not this time. That can’t be my last love letter because what if Dementia creeps up on ME before I have a chance to tell my grandkids how I met their GrandPop? (It’s a great love story. I’ll tell you later.) What if after I’m gone my kids don’t remember how much I love them? What if before I’m gone, I don’t remember how much I love them?

That can’t be my last love letter because I have so much love left to write.