House

I have this image of the previous owners of our "new" house- not yet a home because it is under construction. They were distant relatives and they sold to another family in between our time with the house- this signature of the family though sort of make me think of 75 years from now other people- possibly our kids tearing out things we did to the house and putting in new, if the house is still worth the saving that is. I am talkin to it when I work, "Hello house," as I enter, "Oh wow house you are looking good," and "we will fix it old house..." I have done some work to know if anyone gave birth or died in the house and no one had, seems they already had all the children they had when it was built and that everyone moved out just fine and all, I am a bit creeped out about that death thing. Yet I talk to the house and I know I can't keep that up once we move- Dave already worries about my very vocal relationship with our cats, but still I touch the house and give thanks frequently to God aloud so she can hear me, so she knows she is special.

Pappaw

He was rough on the face almost the entire time. He was nearly always sweaty and damp in the hollow of his back. Yet I could not resist a hug, not ever. His laughter was magic, His sneeze was dramatic and his mouth was brutaly honest.
He smelled of Old Spice and sawdust and tomatoe vines and rich earth. He always wore suspenders- fire engine red ones, and american flag ones. Later he coughed alot, also over dramatic.
He would give me ice cream money if I'd ask Mammaw for extra gingerbread and a cold Dr. Pepper. Then I'd sneak it to him in the greenhouse. Later he'd say the machine that took his blood for sugar readings was crazy and he knew better and then he'd wink a private wink in my direction and I'd wink back.
He held my hand alot and squeezed too much. He told corny jokes, and even cornier stories. I laughed anyway. We watched the discovery channel and jeopardy. He'd always say that I was special and I was gonna be somebody someday. He called me precious for a nickname and not as an adjective. I didn't believe him then.
He told all the others I was his favorite. I was so embarrassed and would hush him, then later kiss his sandpaper cheek and whisper that he was my favorite too. He left all the other grandkids nothing and he willed me the house that my Mammaw still lives in. Sometimes I wonder what he saw in me. Why me?
I followed him around, if it bothered him I never knew. He showed me things. Interesting bugs, big ripe blackberries, newborn kittens and puppies, how stubborn one man could be. How sweet and patient my Mammaw is.
He would've adored my baby girl. He would've said she had spunk. He would've loved my son, would've said he was too smart.
I miss him like a breeze. It comes from nowhere and envelopes me for a while, I cannot stop the flow. I visit his stone and sit on the ground in front of him for a while. I talk to him, I understand that he isn't there, it is for me and not him. I lean my body against that strong stone and often weep. I tell no one that I went, it is just for me and him. I stay until I stop rocking myself and heaving. Everyone else goes in groups and talks and laughs and sings songs about Jesus. That stone will last longer than my baby girl... I know that someday I will visit them both there and that breaks my heart even more.
There are times I can still hear him whistle...

What I've Overheard

"I told him to come on there are lots of cute girls and no one comes for any other reason... that and the extra cash from financial aid"

"Look at those tits..."

"I told him you can kiss my..."

"I don't care. I'm gonna park here, big deal"

"F*** my life"

"I was so wasted.... I was like Oh, sh*t, there was the cop..."

"My mom is such an idiot"

"I mean, come on, she knew there was no condom."

"What my husband doesn't know won't hurt him."


Going back to class for me is exciting and new. I enjoy knowing that this phase of my life is such an advantage that not every one gets. I have found a corner to "hide" in to eat and pass the 1 and one half hour lapses of time in my schedule, I can read and write and study. It also places me in a spot with a great echo, and my anthorpologist side is entertained, and somewhat disgusted.

Missing

I have been given two of the most wonderful children available. I know that sounds hilarious and wierd- given and available- not terms to describe children or motherhood. I was not in the best situation for life when I became pregnant with my son. I was not the best person to have a child at all. Then God changed me. I got up out of the mess that was strewn about my life and took my son and myself to a new life, new lifestyle, and a whole new perspective. After he was here for about three weeks I discovered that I loved him more than myself. Most moms will not admit that it takes time to fall for your baby, but I will.
Then I married and although I was taking birth control and my son was 6 months old I became pregnant again. Once pregnant my husband became distant and soon enough I discovered his drug addiction. Gradually our marriage disolved and I was single for about 2 and a half years. I mourned him, I mourned me, I mourned what I thought we were and mourned the fact that I was so blindsided.
I brought up two children less than fifteen months apart in age with the help of my wonderful parents. They allowed me to stay home with then until they were able to go school. They took the downstairs of the house and me and the kids invaded the upstairs of the house. We were happy that way. I was content with the three of us- the kids and myself. My parents worked all the time and disappeared to thier quarters as soon as the kids were in bed. It was quiet and I read alot. I was fine.
I met David, I fell hard, still am.
Now I want a baby. Alhtough I am blessed with two I did not want at first- and now adore, I want one for the first time in my life. This is a hard situation for me. We just bought a house- about 80 years old and will need to add another bedroom and a bath for the parents before we can have another- not to mention we need to triple our income. He is the Daddy now and they know no other way of life, won't remember before him, without him, or anyone else, no one ever took the role of Daddy for them until David.
I see babies in grocery carts and smile at them. I see my pregnant family members and I radiate the desire for a child. I hate pregnancy- not being gifted in the weight loss area- but I loved the feel of a baby in my arms. People laugh when I tell them and I think I have never actually WANTED a child before and I cannot say that aloud.
I know I have to finish school and I know I need my mom to retire first and me be working full time and have all this done to the house. But then I think of how sweet they are and how David missed out sort of on the two of ours and I get a little bit lonely....

Joy

Sometimes I just want to be Joy,
not momma,
not the negotiator between brother/sister,
the deciding choice between Wendy's or Mcdonalds,
not bathroom scrubber,
nor laundry doer
nor taxi driver
nor bed maker

I want to be where someone can enjoy my presence
my voice
my thoughts
my laughter
I want to lay down with someone who just wants to be next to me
not for sex
not for safety from nightmares

Somedays Joy is never there
all day long
Somedays I get time with her
just minutes
Somedays I need to see her
and I don't
Somedays I get her
and don't need her
Somedays it flows
perfectly
This summer I have craved Joy