Where Was I?

Where was I
when I heard a woman
sobbing silently?

Tell me,
where was I
when I watched a couple
let go
and walk apart?

Please tell me,
where was I
when the fireworks splashed
across the night sky
and I wasn't awed?

And tell me,
where was I
when my gut knew
before my heart
and my head
that we were through?

Life Jacket: Poem for the week of Jan. 19-25

Life Jacket


On that cruise to Mexico,
the crew called us out

for a life boat drill. You,
a little fuzzy

at 10 a.m., came out
with your hair

and life jacket undone.
You found me on the deck,

a little tipsy from the waves.
I warned you about the dangers

of getting tangled up
in your straps, and the crew

warned of the dangers of the sea.
When the drill was over,

you gave me a smile
and turned to leave.

Your straps got wrapped around
your ankles and the more

you struggled, the tighter
they constricted. When you stumbled,

you reached out,
grabbing on your way down.

Beauty Shop Treasures

The young Vietnamese girl walked outside, visibly upsetting Julie, my manicurist. Julie whispered sharply to another co-worker, in Vietnamese, to prevent me and all others from eavesdropping on their gossip. Although I couldn't understand her whispers, her body language and tone shouted how put off she was about the whole thing. I started to get a little put off myself when at one point as Julie was careening to get a look outside, she polished my finger instead of my nail. Not missing a beat, she absently wiped off the polish and got up to get a closer look, leaving me there sitting with 8 out of 10 nails polished.

Soon, Julie came back and finished my nails. She focused a little more and did a good job. I never found out what was so scandalous that they had to whisper their grievances. In an instant, I realized I didn't care. I let go of my frustration with her distraction. I let go of her discomfort. I embraced the moment of relaxation and getting my nails done.

At the drying station a beautiful woman in her sixties smiled her way over to me. Instantly, I knew we would connect. She had a newspaper in her hands. I asked her if there was anything good in the news.

"I don't care about the news," she blurted, "the paper is protecting the treasure underneath."
She lifted the newspaper to unveiled the treasure, a Dr. Seuss children's book on learning French.
"Leave it to Dr. Seuss to make learning French fun! Every sentence in French rhymes with the English translation!"
I was delighted.
"I'm going to St. Bart's. They speak French there."
"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "How exciting for you. Thank you for sharing the thrill of this moment with me."

We went on to talk about her trepidations and anticipations about her trip. We connected. We laughed. It was lovely. By letting go of the beauty shop drama, I was able to bridge the distance with another. I found hidden treasures along the way.

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-10247/30-things-to-do-before-you-die.html

My teenage son, Jacob, is disconnected. He is hunched over his iPod, skull candy in his ears. I tap him on the arm to get his attention.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"She's not talking to me, mom. Shouldn't she talk to me? I am her boyfriend."
"She is having a hard time right now. You can't make someone talk to you if they aren't ready."
He slouches down in his chair, "This is so hard."

I feel his pain and am reliving my teenage angst through him. Each day in his world is so full of life and the joy and suffering of being fully human.

Recently we went on a vacation to Hawaii. On the bus, he met Katelyn, a girl from Australia. I watched the whole courting go down. She was sitting 3 seats away. Slowly, she made the moves toward him and he sat there letting her move in. It was very sweet and it lightened me up a bit. The next night, she asked him to meet her on the beach. Jacob asked me if it was okay to go. I asked him if his girlfriend, Adriana, back home would be okay with it. He said, "Of course, mom, I'm just going to the beach."
I let him go. I let him go the next night, too.
Then his girlfriend found out. She was not happy. On the last night of our vacation, my son had to call off his rendezvous with the Australian girl.
"I'm never going to see her again, am I, mom?"
"Probably not."
"Adriana is mad at me. Why did you let me go to the beach with Katelyn?"
"Because everyone needs to feel the magic of a holiday romance."
"I didn't even hold her hand, mom. I didn't even hug her."
"I know, but what is the greatest memory for you from our vacation?"
He looked me straight in the eye, "Sitting on the beach and talking to Katelyn."

Now that he is going through this pain with Adriana, I am struggling with my decision of giving him the freedom I gave him on vacation. I am questioning if it is my job to protect him from this pain or if my only job is to tap him on the arm and ask him if everything is alright.

My gut is saying that giving him that freedom and experience was worth it. My gut is saying it's all going to be okay.