I love my girls and I love my life, but I am so grateful for time away from both. Time simply to be, to reconnect with B, to celebrate our partnership, to remember. But most especially, time just to be still.
Kate’s going on a date tonight. She looks exquisite. But she thinks she looks fat. I had a real moment. I know we all joke about how we become our mothers, but fuck, I felt like I was starring in a generational sliding doors. And not only because it’s exactly how every night out played out for me and my mom. The thing I found particularly freaky was the frustration I felt at her not hearing me. Just like I never heard my mom. I felt the very emotion I know my mom felt. It was weird. The futility. The frustration. Sometimes it really is just futile, even commenting as a mom, because they just don’t believe you. I never did. And as much as you profess (and they know it to be true) that the only one they can really rely on to be honest is you, their mom, they still don’t believe you because you are their mom and that’s why to you they are perfect. It’s quite confusing. In fact I know the only way Kate and I are ok is if I agree with her. It usually works, but clearly I can’t tonight. I daren’t. And anyway, I don’t. She looks gorgeous and she looks skinny. And that is really all that matters to her in this effed up world we inhabit. Anyway, she flew down the corridor in a huff, just like me, sorry mom, I know it never was your fault how I was feeling but I now know I knew I could take it out on you and we’d still be ok, anyway, she ran to Jem and asked her if she looked fat. Jem looked up and said nah. And that was enough for Kate. I didn’t even feel offended, I was just relieved. But I am determined to never ever ask B if I look fat in whatever I’m wearing again.
B and I have date night. Every night since he got back. And before he left. I am grateful for many date nights with Apple tv and Breaking Bad. For a partner who also always wants just one more. For a brilliant series that kept us up well past midnight many a night. The most extreme form of escapism. Perfect.
I embarrassed Kate again today. This time because I started crying over my cup of coffee. We had a fabulous girly morning shopping. Then went for a coffee at Canteen. I always feel quite melancholy when we go to Canteen because this was the place I used to hide out in when we first arrived in Noosa. Not really hide because no-one knew me to look for me. Hide I suppose so it wasn’t obvious how lost I was. Or lonely. Or how invisible I felt. We weren’t set up at the house yet and Canteen is long and narrow and dark and cosy and at the back are computers you can use at your leisure as long as you order a coffee. Well, order anything. If any of you got those early I’m ok, I promise I’m ok emails, which I hope you never really believed, well they were from Canteen. Anyway, I think I felt a little of this emotion today, in fact I know I did, cos I always do. Then I checked my facebook, only cos Kate checked hers and we were waiting for our coffee and milkshake and anyway we’d been chatting non stop all morning so we had nothing left to say to each other. I read a status update from the Matt Golinski tribute page (for those of you who don’t know about Matt, he is a local hero and chef who tragically lost his wife and three daughters to an horrific house fire) which was in essence a plea for people to support an initiaitve to provide solace to those lonely or isolated, mostly the aged, by writing letters. Just a newsy chit chat letter from a stranger. With or without a reply address. Just an act of reaching out and making a difference to someone. Kate asked what I was reading so I started reading it to her and started crying. She said mom it is sad and you should write but stop crying now, its ok. And it’s embarrassing. It was but it just breaks my heart. That someone is so sad. And lonely. And that it can take so little to make someone smile. Just the act of someone seeing them. Even just a stranger. I think thats what really set me off. Because I know how sore it is not to be seen. And my guilt at knowing how much easier it is sometimes not to see someone. And my guilt at being away. And maybe I do need to up my meds. Anyway I’m going to write some letters. Maybe you want to too.
23 June There is always something to be involved in here, whether a 20km walk for breast cancer, a theatre offering, a triathlon, a food festival, a jazz festival, a literary offering, a surfing festival, a debate, a degustation dinner. And then some. I am grateful for where we live, for all it offers, for the wonderful selfless people that the world depends upon, for friends who make getting up at 5am in the dark fun. And for a reason to have champers at 10am.