Forget Me Not

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always together, children don't forget, destination self, distance and the heart, fonder hearts, forget me not, heart failure, Little girl Big city, magical moments, memories of my children, motherhood, once upon a different lifetime ago, pieces of me, remember me, reunion with my children, sequence of scenes, the arrival

afternoon 4.14.08

Scene: Claremont, CA- eastern outskirt city just barely in Los Angeles county

I didn’t know it then or maybe I would have been better at it.  But it was to be one of our very last visits in several years.  It was the last time I would to see any semblance of a heart in the body of my ex husband.

My daughter was turning two that week.  I was to get a visit with them finally.  I was so scared that the year away from me would mean that they would start to forget me.  I cried and cried before they arrived.  I had no idea what I was in for.  But I had to be strong.  I had to hold on.  Because faith is all we ever have.

As the van I once called mine pulled up with what was once my husband and most of my family I sucked it up and wiped the tears from my face.  I took a deep breath.

The car door opened.  Both of my babies were still in carseats.  My ex started to help both my older developmentally behind son- who was now four, and my daughter who was about to turn two get out of their car seats.

“Momma!” I heard my little boy cry out and point.

“Wait a minute.” my ex told him.

“Momma momma!”  he cried again.

I tried to hold back the tears.  I tried to be strong.  And then my daughter joined him as well.

“Mommy mommy!  My mommy!”

My son ran to me and hugged me.  My daughter flailed around as my ex struggled with the car seat.  Both of them were so happy to see me.  It was like a day hadn’t passed.  They still knew who I was.

“Wait a minute.” he repeated to my daughter.

She didn’t listen.  I could see my ex getting more and more agitated.  Is it wrong to say that I’m so glad neither of them listened?

“Mommy mommy!  My mommy!”

There are some things that you don’t forget.  I’m glad we were one of them.

Sebastian

Tags

California experiences, escape from suburbia, first fourth of july at the beach, fourth of july at the beach, friends of a mermaid, Little girl Big city, Los Angeles, nostalgic moments, sequence of scenes

2pm 6.4.08

Scene: a smoothie shop in Claremont, border to Inland Empire county

“Fuck it, I’m going to LA today.”

I’d said this several times before.  But working as hard as I was and commuting to friends that lived in the city limits made this place hell.

“It’s Los Angeles.  I know it’s not San Diego but… you’ll be happier here.  I’ll be able to help you more with you closer.” my dad professed a few months prior as he moved me out of the hell that was my post divorce residence.

What it turned out to be was a tease.  My dad wanted me to like Claremont so much.  And for a few moments I did.  There were pieces of it that made the dog days of working two crappy jobs and commuting back and forth on public transit to push towards the actual dream: of a good job in the city just like my dad a bit tolerable.  But something was still amiss.

In my adventures back and forth, I’d met a friend through a party.  Ever since then, he’d been helping me commute back and forth up to the area.  In some ways, he’d essentially “adopted” me.  So when dad told me that he was too busy on the Fourth to come get me from work and let me see my son I did what came natural to me: I elected to spend the day with my new friends.

“It’s going to be close but we can make it.  I’ll go get you and then we can meet everyone over at Trina’s.  We’ll walk to the beach from there.”

In all the years that I’d lived in California, I had never seen the fireworks over the water on the Fourth.

We arrived just in time to get parking.  We grabbed some drinks and blankets.  There was a whole convoy of us.  A whole convey of video game loving geeks.  We were going to have a blast.

When we finally decided on our landing spot I talked to one of my friends a few minutes.  My senses lighted up.  I was too close to the beach not to go in.  I tugged at my friend’s arm before he surrendered.

“If there’s anywhere to bring Jena to see her happy, it’s at the ocean.” my friend said as I ran off.

For someone who didn’t really know me too well back then, my friend really knew me well back then.

Free wishes

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dandelion sunbursts, free wishes, Little girl Big city, magical moments, motherhood, my son is my hero, New Years wishes, nostalgic moments, real city stories, sequence of scenes, serendipitous intersections, the balance of mom and single woman

3:30pm 1.2.12

Scene: suburbia Los Angeles, Claremont California

“We need to get out of the house today.  It’s far too gorgeous for us to stay in and play video games.” I told my nine year old son.

“But Mom do we have to?”

“Yes we do.  Get your shoes on.  I will keep dancing and singing if you don’t.”

“Okay fine.”

He put up a bit of resistance.  My original plan to go miniature golfing didn’t pan out.  Apparently my dad had beat me to it yesterday.

“What are we going to do then?”

“You can go play basketball at the school.  You can show your mom.” Dad said.

We went to the garage and Ethan grabbed a basketball.  He started to dribble.  It hardly looked like it.  The ball was a bit flat.

“I don’t know where the air pump is so we’re going to a thrift store Ethan.”

“But Mommmm…”

“We’re going to look to see if there’s anything fun.  Maybe we can find something for your sister and your brother to send them.  Maybe we can find something for us to enjoy.  Or we can stay here and I’ll just dance silly.”

“Mom you’re no fun.”

“You’re not allowed to say that until you’re my age.  You have no idea how fun and cool your mom is.”

“I don’t even know what age you are.”

“That’s good!  Let’s keep it that way!  Now get your shoes on already.”

We headed out on a quest for treasure with a couple of stops along the way.  The swing hanging under the tree gave the illusion of it being an entirely different season.  I took a few photos with him playing.  Leaves fell as he jumped down.

“You’re going to break it Ethan!  The world is falling down.  Look what you did!”

He laughed and we continued.  He ran ahead of me.  I was still complacent from my weekend.  From every moment of this new year being spectacular.  I saw some dandelion sunbursts in the neighbor’s yard.

“Ethan come here and look!”

“What is it?” he asked as he ran back.

I pointed at the dandelions.

“Wishes!”

“What?”

“Free wishes!  It’s a new year.  We’re lucky.  Let’s make some wishes!”

“What should I wish for?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything.  Every day is chance to make a wish come true but you have to start by making them.”

“Ok.  Mom grab your wisher.  I have one too.”

“One.  Two. Three.”

The perfect combination of religion and technology

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Catholic, Christmas, church, church as a spectacle, Claremont, family, holidays, its a trap, Its not a holiday without the dose of guilt, Little girl Big city, Los Angeles, Los Angeles suburbia, new age of worship, please silence your cell phones, raised catholic, religion and technology, suburbia, suburbia California, technology, the trifecta of do not talk about

10:48am 12.25.11

Scene: A Catholic church in Claremont, southeast suburb of Los Angeles

“And this Christmas I want to wish that you get everything you need.  Not everything what you want.  But everything you need.  Remember, you are here for a reason.” the priest started before the opening service.

Being raised a Catholic, the morning crawl to church on Christmas morning is an inevitable part of the day.  It is the one main thing we do on every major holiday.

My dad is very traditional.  It is the essence of his being.  He has a very corporate nine to five, always dons the coordinating team jerseys as he watches the teams from our beloved hometown closest city, abhors technology, and, of course, is devout to his faith.  It works for him.  I get it.  And that’s fantastic.  There are times where I’ve felt closer to thinking it might work for me too.  But, more times than not, it’s not been my cup of tea.  Part of that could likely be attributed to it being shoved down my consciousness when I had no choice but to participate.

Another person went up to the podium with other special announcements.

“And for the college kids who are in town visiting your parents.  There’s always room for you.  And for the ones who have lost their faith.  There’s always room for you.”

It’s not a holiday without the dose of guilt.

Religion is one of three topics that, even in my adulthood, I am not allowed to question my father on.  The others are probably not surprising.  One is politics and sexual orientation. Which in the recent heated discussions regarding Prop 8, as a girl whose first experiences were with another female, is probably a big thing for my father to deal with.  (He still thinks it’s just a phase.)  The last one in the trifecta is technology.  Which, as it fuels the industries that I make my passions as well as professions is equally as dubious item of contention.

Few people realize that despite all these things, I am, in many regards, also a traditionalist.  Combine that element with my fixation on anthropology and you have, this morning, a perplexed and vaguely annoyed vessel in this house of holiness.

“Peace be with you.” the priest said.

“And also with you.” the congregation responded.

“It’s supposed to be “and with your spirit.” Ethan nudged me and whispered to me.

“When did they change that Ethan?”

“It’s new.  This month.”

I looked up to see cameras and projection screens on the walls.  There had been a message at the beginning asking people to silence their phones while the service was going on.  Since when is going to church like going to a movie?  Is this really just for entertainment purposes?

“And that?” I pointed.

“That’s new too.  It’s all this month.”

Welcome to the new age of worship.  It’s the technology that I love trying to revive a ritual tradition.  Years ago I probably would have been happy to welcome it.  So why was it bothering me now?  What was different?  I thought about this for a few minutes.  The opening words of the priest simmered a bit.

It’s not a holiday without a dose of hypocrisy.

I then did what came natural to me at moments like those, I took out my cell phone and drafted a message on a private piece of the web.  Am I now an old fuddy duddy like I’ve always barked at my dad each time he’s given me a stern word about technology?  Or is the same thing that brings us together, the same thing that pushes us apart?

I didn’t walk in expecting to be on camera.  I didn’t walk in for a show or a series of statements to make me feel guilty.  I came in for my family for a traditional ritual that is supposed to bring us together.  The faith would tell me that to be ashamed of worshiping the Lord would later be punished in the afterlife.  I chuckled to myself.  This whole setup actually makes perfect sense.

It’s a trap.