I often feel like I wasn't made for this world. The systems and hierarchies, the bright false lights, the small talk and superiority of money and achievement, linear growth and material praise are things designed for a world with a different species in mind than myself. I grind and I persist and I find pockets of magic and joy in the movement of leaves on a tree, choreographed dances, children laughing, asking and receiving hard questions, the bubblegum pink of the Crepe Myrtle's in June. I persist with the ever present voice of my strong and generous mother in my head telling me I will go on because I have to. My days are often filled with rigid tasks that take me a lot of time, because no matter how hard I try I don't move very efficiently. I get lost in small things like how the produce is arranged in the basket or how the rubber duckies and boats are aligned on the shower window sill.
I am in a new house now. The 5th one in 6 years. I am bone tired from packing and moving and unpacking mostly alone and with small kids in tow for the last 2-3 weeks.
The only thing I was really good at in school was reading and writing. Still, I cling to my books and journals like they are the ship that is going to finally, one day return me home to where I came from and where I belong. I absolutely resent my iPhone. I switched to a flip phone a couple of months ago after I closed the chapter of 5 years of managing several short term vacation rentals and needing to be constantly available to meet the hospitality needs of high paying guests and respond to emergencies. The flip phone switch was fantastic in a lot of ways. I began taking pen to paper more often, I took the time to notice my surroundings more. I navigated my home city and a weekend around the Houston area with my brain map, the help of strangers at gas stations, calling friends and writing down directions from other people's phones. I was able to sit quietly with myself and my own thoughts and better integrate my experiences during quiet moments in waiting places. I switched back recently for a list of mediocre reasons, for the first couple of days it felt super new and exciting all over again. Now I'm back to resenting my iPhone. Maybe this tells something about my constant dopamine hunt and my shaky relationship with discipline.
On September 2nd, 2020 I had my first child. Opal Jay, her middle name after my dad who died when I was 16, in my grandmother's house in Louisiana while she and Pop Pop were away on a fly fishing trip in Alaska. He died after finally sustaining some time clean off of pharmaceutical opiates that had frankly ruined the second part of his life. It was a heart attack, all of the damage finally caught up to him is what I guess. He was alone in Gam's house for a couple of days and the beloved little white dog Andy actually ate his foot. Anyway, that's just the story of his dying. My Dad had a lot of cool qualities and Opal Jay was named in his memory. She came out overcooked two weeks late and strong. We had a steady attachment , she breastfed until her 2nd birthday. She was extremely language oriented and bull headed, she knew what she wanted. I have called her the wrecking potato since she was 11 months old. I separated from her father early. He has a beautiful soul and we enjoyed some years of exploring woods and building fires and adventuring together before Opal, but he was an alcoholic and couldn't get his priorities straight. I am only willing to care take an adult for a short time and as long as my own capacity allows. 3.5 years later at 9 months sober myself I met a man, his name was… Jay. He was much older than me, quiet, mysterious and had the kindest eyes and smile. He was a very good friend to Opal. He had strong hands, skin darkened from labor in the sun, and lots of stories of his years as a firefighter in Chicago. We became friends, it felt safe. We somehow eventually moved into a place of intimacy. We had sex 2 times total, decided to get a house together and found out we were pregnant with twins. Rhett and Jude were born on December 9th, 2024. When we shared with Opal that we were pregnant, before we knew there were twins , she told us we were going to have two babies and we needed two car seats and two bassinets and two high chairs. I told her "No honey, we only get one baby, sorry!!" ~ low and behold…
The first Father's Day, with the 6-month old boys, we went to Inks Lake, and Jay told me he refused to go into Longhorn Caverns with me and be seen in public because I wasn't wearing a bra….
The following Father's Day - I am officially moved out and into a 630 sq ft. duplex up the hill, on my own, with one small bedroom for the 3 kids and one for me, and a country blue kitchen and a pink door in a cozy little oak grove. I don't know what is next. My 1.5 year olds will be starting daycare soon and my big girl will go to kindergarten in the fall. I will start looking for a job. Freelance managing a single property won't be enough anymore and that's good, I'm glad. I'm ready for something new. I like to work outside, and I like to use my body, and I like to be of service. I landed at Zilker Elementary by pure accident. I didn't know what school Opal was going to attend when we found that rental from a sign in the yard on Del Curto. The big colorful public school setting took some adjusting for us, but her Pre-K year turned out to be very special. I could have chosen to move anywhere in the city, closer to family in north Austin or out towards my mom in Kerrville. Something told me to keep Opal at Zilker, and to keep us in the neighborhood. And at 35 I'm tired of ignoring the wise counsel of my gut. So we stayed.
Then, this afternoon, childless for the first time in weeks I was driving from Barton Springs thinking, "I think I might be starved for connection", andI passed the school and I saw the sign for Chief Moms. When I got home I layed in my new bed with my new blue bed sheets and I read some of your stories and felt compelled to write something other than a list or a goal for the first time in a while and this is what came out.
