Show Me The Meaning of the Word

“Show me the meaning of the word
Show me the meaning of the word
‘Cause I’ve heard so much about it
They say, “Hey, you can’t live without it”
Welcome to the human race
With its wars, disease and brutality
You with your innocence and grace
Restore some pride and dignity
To a world in decline”

Early Wednesday morning, I woke up at 4:45 and couldn’t go back to sleep.

So I did what ANY sensible person who has never left North America and is up with no plans to go back to sleep does. I booked two tickets to see Bruce Hornsby at Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. They had just gone on sale on Scottish time (not what it’s really called), you see. And hey, maybe I’ll fill in the blanks around this concert outline. Maybe there’ll be flights booked; hotels reserved. Maybe a plan will come to be now. And maybe I’ll be even more productive the next time I find myself awake with no plans to get out of a warm bed, with a butt-spooning husky next to me.

Early Thursday morning, I woke up at 4:03 and this time, I could go back to sleep.

So I did what ANY sensible person who has fallen back to sleep with a butt-spooning husky stealing the covers does. I had a dream that stayed with me. Many of these dreams fade with the morning sunrise. They pop like a bubble. Sometimes you’re still grasping for the bubble after it has already popped – trying to find nearly all the invisible bubble pieces. Trying to piece together what happened, and what it was trying to tell you. This dream was about Tony. Tony is a figment of my dream imagination. He has Down Syndrome. In the dream, or cobwebby series of dreams, I had two other kids, AFTER Rider and Sawyer. A baby girl, and Tony. Tony was both a four-month-old baby in my dream, and a four-year-old boy. As the baby, he was mine, but I had never changed his diaper. Not a single diaper. As the kid, I finally let myself embrace him. We held each other for hours (or what was probably really three minutes of sleeping). I wondered why it took so long, while simultaneously being relieved that it hadn’t taken that that long. What are the things you miss, because your head is in the clouds; your feet on the ground?

How can you miss the monotony of diapers; the bursting bubbles of hopes, dreams, embraces?

Before COVID, I never felt fully.. there in my kids’ lives. It was very push and pull and in and out. Sure, I nurtured every pregnancy, every birth, every infant period, toddler season, and preschool and beyond too. I’ve always loved them fiercely and I never miss an appointment or school play or lesson or party. It was more of the day to day routines that I was sleepwalking through. It’s like I would gaze and glaze out. I was there but I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell you which toothbrush brand they used, but I could tell you about the magical portal “Door in the Floor” stories I would tell them before bed. We had epic road trips, where we all took turns choosing music. I took them on adventures where we talked, really talked, but I didn’t even know how to discipline or scold them. I did, but I didn’t. I would get lost in the rotating shuffles of partnership and family.

How can someone be so there, and also so not there? Isn’t that the way sometimes?

Last night, on Rider’s birthday eve, we went through these new/old routines. I no longer sleep through his bedtime. I’m learning to honor the needs of other family members who may need to practice piano, do homework, or sink into a bath. Sometimes, I need my own things. I need to sink into a bath or do an assignment or read a book. Lately, though, I think about being more solid and vibrant, instead of shimmering, shimmering, disappearing. It’s not an all or nothing. Partnerships and families are ever-changing, and so are the needs and routines; the reactions and the nuances. It’s ok to have none of it figured out. And it’s ok to feel like you’re constantly playing catch-up. In fact, it’s probably more normal to feel that way, because it means that at least you’re running. You can miss that bus nine times out of ten, but maybe the last one is the key. So you try to find these missing puzzle pieces; that one elusive and correctly fitting key.

Whatever it takes, in this moment, to ease the burden and chase away the dark clouds.

I thought I had done a perfect bedtime. We read two favorite books. He was all cozied up in his Christmas pajamas, and in his sleep blanket. I went downstairs to write. We heard him crying loudly ten minutes later. Des was doing his homework, Cassidy was in the bath, and Scarlet had disappeared somewhere. I went into his room, where all he did was scream into my ear. He kept pointing. Through a series of pointing and sometimes soft, sometimes stern tones, we started to figure it out. “Tell me,” I said impatiently. He shook his head and screamed louder. So I held him close to me and took a deep breath. This was my chance. “Show me,” I said patiently. And he did.

I was sad to have missed so much of Dream Tony’s life. And I am sad to have missed so much of the teeny and tiny and monotony things. I don’t think they’re boring. I don’t think anything is boring. It’s more complicated than that, and things are touched and tinged with sadness and fear. In and out and push and pull. Black and white and every shade of gray. The mornings are chaotic and terrible, but also exciting. All of these CHANCES for color and love and life. Rider pushes me away, often, and it’s familiar to me. Scarlet once pushed me away, as a toddler. It’s always been my way to shut out and shut down when this happened/happens. It’s the same old song. I’m useless, worthless, small, stupid, incapable, inconsistent. Lacking. This time, this week, it was different. I’m the opposite of lacking. And surely he knows it. You can shut me out & down; push me out & away. I’m still here, though. I’m not shimmering, shimmering, then disappearing.

He knows it. I know it. You know it.

The dream sticks with me. Dream Tony is a symbol. I had this perfect and imperfect and utterly precious thing that I never maintained or nurtured or thrived into being. Sometimes it’s too late to save something you’ve never maintained or nurtured or thrived and loved into being. And other times, maybe you can learn to embrace it. Not like a light switch, no, but like a bus you race to catch every day, steadying your pace and your timetables and your ambitions. Maybe you miss it nine times out of ten, and maybe on the tenth day, or tenth year, you leap into that open door and steady yourself against the glaring light and the deep bumps that threaten to throw you all around and break your resolve. How could I have missed it so much, you may ask.

And suddenly, you’re here and it’s becoming clear. I’m here. Show me.

“Welcome to a special place
In a heart of stone that’s cold and gray
You with your angel face
Keep the despair at bay
Send it away, and
Show me the meaning of the word
Show me the meaning of the word
‘Cause I’ve heard so much about it
I don’t want to live without it
I don’t want to live without it
Oh, I want love
I want love
I want love”