Dream a Little Dream of Me

Luke left home and I didn’t tell you. I left you hanging. I forgot, somehow, to mention that I cried all the way to the airport (tears triggered by this hug goodbye to Quinn):

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I cried so much when we were checking our bags in that the man behind the counter said, “Momma, you ain’t even on the plane yet. Stop those tears because y’all be goin’ to a legalized state. You get yourself a cookie at one of those corner shops and you will be just fine.”

I cried so much that as we were taking off even Luke said, “Mom, stop.” Four hour flight. Four hours that “the hug” played in my forehead like a drive-in movie, reminding me that their sibling relationship would never again be the same. Then, as we were landing (flew right into a wind storm, making me regret not taking the Xanax hidden in my purse by a friend) we could see the space needle and the landscape that is Luke’s new home, and right above that, but below us, so close that if airplane windows could open, we could have touched it, was the most brilliant double rainbow. I have not cried since. I did hum the lyrics to Somewhere Over the Rainbow for most of the trip, however. Late apologies to my companions:

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Luke is loving Seattle, loving school. The rest of our family has been having a rough Fall, overshadowed by my continuing health baloney and also a lack of funds. Grateful to have teacher friends who also have a lack of funds, but do have fully stocked bars. None of us may be able to afford to turn the heat on yet, but we know how to keep warm through laughter and booze and heavy fleece blankets.

I am grappling with empathy … feeling the pain and disappointment of other people so deeply that I am sometimes so stuck. If you have not yet had a 14 and 15 year old child, trust me when I say that those are the years your empathy meter will go into overdrive. You will feel every betrayal and loss of theirs as if they were your very own and you will feel them ON TOP OF YOUR OWN and then you will be a pile of tired and dirty, mismatched socks. That is exactly how I feel. I am a stray and forgotten sock.

I am grappling with envy, looking at a life that I cannot seem to afford. In that space, the space that is filled with panic, there is no room for me. I am starting to unwind it all, starting to draw a bit here and there (obsessed with textiles lately):

2lovenotwar Screen Shot 2015-10-18 at 9.52.09 AM Screen Shot 2015-10-18 at 9.52.17 AM

When drawing, I forget to panic. What is it about drawing that makes it seem like all things are possible? Makes it seem that a bigger life is coming? I cannot quite pinpoint it, but drawing is like having a conversation with myself in which I am reassured that I am still here and that laundry and bills and a finger smudged refrigerator, or a bank account that has been reading negative for months now, are not the things that define my spirit. What do people do who don’t have that reminder?

I am grateful to the flowers and guns and cats and clouds and dogs that show up out of seemingly nowhere that trigger the start of my next chapter. They trigger dreams and ideas and next steps and they make all of the things that I have been worried about seem so small … still there, but just annoying dust bunnies in the corner now, easily swept away if I can find the energy to locate the broom…”where trouble melts like lemon drops.” It is truly where you’ll find me. It is where I have found me.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams, whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me.

Happy to be back. I will dream of you too.

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About kellyinrepeat

mom, wife, artist, writer, teacher, dog lover, pie maker, who believes that all things are possible
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One Response to Dream a Little Dream of Me

  1. Lori says:

    “What do people do who don’t have that reminder?” – so true! Im keeping you with me Kellybean! You are an inspiration to me- always have been in one way or another. . . I love you!

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