Moving to Maine

February 3, 2014

I had a plan for my next post, a topic, an outline, I’d bought myself some time to ruminate on healing and community, personal limitations and a way to redefine those limitations as opportunities. And I was going to write the word opportunities in italics. It was a well thought out plan.

Then, came a minor health scare with my daughter. And a power outage that, long story made so much shorter, ended up with us all sleeping in the living room last night.

After that night, I didn’t feel that time in front of the computer ruminating was called for. I needed to dive right back into our lives. First up on the new agenda, a trip to our church. Next, an adventure at the local ice skating rink, probably against doctor’s orders, followed by the highlight of everything-I’d watch the Super Bowl with my son. (I don’t care about the Superbowl, but my son does.)
Two years ago we took up skating, me and my kids. I hadn’t skated for thirty years. When I went, I had visions of leading them out, Colin clutching on one gracefully outstretched palm, Katy the other.
It was horrible. Thirty years is a long time. Colin and Katy grabbed milk crates and held onto to them while they figured it out. I held on to the wall and prayed and cursed a lot.

That was two years ago.
Since then, I’ve practiced. So even though I’m not cleared for the gym, I thought a few spins around the rink would be good. I’ve been sick. Katy had the glitch. Our power went out, now it’s on, but we all needed sometime to glide around in circles because who knew what was coming next.
And we skated. Katy, me, her friend Pennie and probably hundred other people. And for me, at least for a moment or two, it was easy. Which means as I slid across the ice, I was hearing Katy Perry and Keisha and some boy band sing, instead of me- breathing noisy, or cursing, or muttering= “what am I thinking… I’m too old for this.”

And then, I got a text from a son of a friend of mine, could he come by tonight to talk. He had something to say.

When this boy, I will call him “A”, says he has something to say, he has something to say. He is fifteen, but he is not a sports fan, or an alarmist.

So I skated my way to the bleachers, and called my son. Colin is a sportsfan. He is a Sports Fan. A is his friend, but I needed to clear his visit with Colin. The Super Bowl definitely isn’t a big deal to A.

Colin said I could invite A over, wanted to know what it was all about. Told him I didn’t know, but it sounded big, it might interfere with kickoff. Colin agreed, and sent me to the store for more buffalo wings.

This is not a long story. I shouldn’t have milked it. This is the thing. A came over to say he is leaving on Wednesday for private school. He hugged me when I fell forward a bit, he hugged me and lifted me up and held me strong, because he’s a strong boy. And I’m a sad woman, because I will miss him, but not so sad to not let him lift me up.

We spoke of Skype and cafeteria food, and how much Colin loves him. He showed me three or four vines, those short videos that are supposed to make everyone laugh, and I laughed, I think, when I was supposed to. I melted cheese in the microwave for him, I made sure he remembered his math homework. I drove him home after half time and talked about Skype some more. I’ve never skyped anyone in my life.

But I will learn. I learned how to skate, after forgetting. So I can certainly figure out how to stay in touch with my friend who is moving to Maine.

One Response to “Moving to Maine”

  1. metalmmom said

    Damn girl…brought the suggestion of a tear to my eye. Sweet thoughts for the youngins who have to leave our embraces to venture out to find what they will embrace. Hon, I tried..I don’t have a gift for words like you but I hope I at least communicated my sentiment. I am so glad you are writing, I always thought you were gifted. Deb

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