Mixed Emotions

We are deeply immersed, now, into the holiday festivities.

This evening, we will take a moveable feast to the assisted living center where Master's parents have their home. We'll be joined there by His ex-wife, her mother, and His teenaged son. We'll grill filet mignon, put out a baked potato bar, serve up a green bean casserole that has been suitably modified for our dietary restrictions (but which will most likely pass as the version everybody knows and loves in spite of all that), and finish with homemade cheese cake and berry compote. There'll be gifts and conversation and champagne toasts all around. We'll once again marvel that another year has come and gone and we've still got the grandparents all with us...

Tomorrow, we'll gather at the ex-wife's home. The cast will be nearly the same with the addition of Master's daughter and her boyfriend. More gifts, more food, more family time.

In between, the three of us will weave time for "us" around the more public events -- time when we will cocoon into our own home and celebrate the amazing reality of our small family unit.

Last night, our evening at Phantom was wonderful in some ways. Our seats were fabulous, and the performance was excellent. T, I believe, had a wonderful evening. Unfortunately, Master was scheduled (at the last minute) for a sleep study the night before which left Him exhausted, and He wasn't in any shape to really enjoy the evening. Still, it was a gift that was just perfect for our T...

A week ago, I called my son, who still lives in Colorado. He is the older of my two children and will be 30 years old this summer. I still remember the moment that they laid him in my arms the first time... I promised myself then that I would raise a good adult that I'd be proud to know some day -- and I am. He is kind and good and decent in ways that make me so glad to know him. I needed to tell him about my upcoming surgery, and try and assure him that there was really nothing for him to be concerned about. In the event, it was my wonderful son who had me laughing as he explained to me how critically important it was that I get this resolved so that I don't continue to hemorrhage in my junior high classrooms and risk traumatizing some poor young guy... "Really, Mom!"

And then he got serious, telling me about his sister -- she's in jail, Mom. Charges in two different counties: distribution and conspiracy to distribute. Crystal Meth. Again. Likely a sixteen year sentence this time. She'd called him. Asked him to call me and call her grandmother and see if we'd spring for a legal defense fund. And, my good, strong, decent, kind, truthful son asked her if he could bring her some cigarettes when he came to visit her. He knows that the other thing is no-way going to happen. Shouldn't happen. I can't look too closely at that -- not really straight on. I've been here before. Know the pain and the anguish and the absolute futility. She, too, was laid in my arms at the moment of her birth. My heart breaks, and I cannot save her.
I am feeling quiet. Emotions reined in tight. Leashed. If I let them go, I'd shriek, and that would be so awfully unseemly on this eve when the world waits for the promise of peace and joy.

I am choosing to believe today and tomorrow and for the new year. Because I must, because I cannot imagine what else to do. Because...

Happy Holidays to all of you. For your friendship and for your love and for your words of wisdom offered here and in private -- thank you. May all good things be yours in the new year.

swan