Of course I do. There was a lot of fullness and happiness, as always on these warm and fun family weekends, but even more so lately. Life has been celebratory and chaotic for the last few weeks. We had spring break while Cassidy was in Brazil. We had Cassidy’s arrival home from Brazil – so well-timed with airport pickup that we actually saw his plane land in front of us.
Des clapped for the landing and then said, “How about another one?” How about another one indeed, Des? I get the achy breaky Sunday night feelings lately because our weekends are so good. We’re all operating as a team, and for once and for awhile, I’m not the shaky wheel here. No one is. Spring break was followed by our 7th wedding anniversary, and then the arrival of spring weather. We had Mother’s Day over the weekend and yesterday was the 11th anniversary of the day everything changed for Cassidy and me. We went from zero to 50 in one passionate work email. His famous line was, “Have you ever seen a picture of me?” Why, no. I hadn’t. And I had been waiting lightyears for you to ask me that, my darling.
School will be out for summer in six weeks or so. Photography jobs will be on the rise. Des will turn three and Scarlet will turn six. I’ll have a birthday in there too, and I’ll try not to wreck this one with anxiety. Or any of them, really. There will be moose and sundresses and rainbow sprinkles – and more of my favorite things. Maybe I’ll meet some of you, at a conference or on a road trip. It’s so easy to get psyched out, by heat and humidity, parenting exhaustion, or anxiety. Mostly, that.
My Mother’s Day weekend was fabulous. It was a mixed bag. I could tell you it was all good, but I’d be leaving out the ache of having my first Mother’s Day without my grandmother, or really – the deep ache for my mom to be motherless on Mother’s Day. She’s not really motherless, of course, and I’m not grandmotherless, because the legacies are powerful and strong.
I could tell you that my Mother’s Day weekend had some sadness, but it wouldn’t even be true, because it was filled with surprise breakfasts, presents, love and shoe shopping with Scarlet – who carried cash in her little red heart purse and near about broke my heart with her pride at handling real money with real cashiers. Under her mother’s watchful eye, of course. So I got that achy breaky squishy feeling in my heart for a little girl who keeps cash in a little red heart purse, and for a 100-year-old mother, grandmother and great-grandmother who kept her Bingo winnings in a little change purse – only to be found after her passing. These things are related. They are the achy, breaky, squishy, mushy tales of loving, living and losing.
And I can’t even tell you that I was very sad, or that my weekend was darkened by those tales and other ones too. The longing was kept safe in my little heart compartments – quite like allowance money in a little red heart purse, and Bingo winnings in a weathered change purse. Everything in its right and safe place. Snug. Multidimensional. Maybe to be taken out for a rainy day or two. It wasn’t sadness or fear, or even the absence of both. I was just living my weekend with my heart on my sleeve, with a little girl who wears her red heart purse around her hips. It was freakin’ good and it had rainbow sprinkles on top too.