I've been dreaming about love lately, late in the night. Yesterday, I saw my mother and she was in love with an ugly man, the kind of ugliness that always reveals kind-heartedness. She told me how special he was to her, how well he treated her. I tried to see him in the way she did, the vision of him attempting to morph into skin-deep beauty but the picture wouldn't budge. Finally, the scene fizzed away and I was left alone in the room with only a memory of the man.
The other night it was me who was in love, in love with a younger man, strong-bodied and hairless. He was on my bed and we were touching one another, comfortably. Each one of my family members came to me and asked about him. I told them his name, a moment of blankness because in truth, I didn't know his name. But he was beautiful. Even D was a little enamored of him. We all were. How lucky we were to have this beautiful stranger in our midst!
The other morning, in my waking life, I received an e-mail from a long-ago friend. Someone who I once loved with everything in me. He was kind and complimentary of my photo gallery which he came across when googling my name. Googling my name? You were thinking of me, I wanted to write specifically. You were always too "good" for me. Always a bit of a dream for me. It was a sweet moment that carried me through a morning of lectures. I remembered the anxiety, the loss, the highs. I missed that particular love.
Our days have been dull, routine being the name of the game. The homework battle with my middle son is exhausting, the struggle with my oldest son to eke out "C's" is emotionally draining, and my youngest's rudeness and head-strong attitude is maddening. I wonder if I escape in my dreams, escape to a place that is relieving, curious. A place where there is easier love than the love between growing children and their parents.
There have been so many things I've wanted to blog about, hourly I think of things I want to talk about, to tell about - I come here and find the entry page - I prepare to write. The ideas fade. I end up moving to CNN and reading about the Bush-Administration problems, which only serve to irritate me. Especially when I read about the dissatisfied "right". They put him in office, they've expressed an almost-god-like admiration of him and his ways, denouncing ANY critic as a "unpatriotic liberal," they've dominated our politics, they've tried to control (and often accomplished it) our media for six years, they've ravaged social justice and hope to ravage the constitution. They deny the lies. They won't admit "we" were right.
But they complain.
Please, I say, shut the hell up.
Halloween is coming, Halloween is coming! I don't have a costume. Perhaps I don't really need one. I'll just show up in my pajamas, tease my hair into a crazy disaster, pick up a television remote control with one hand, a margarita with the other. I'll call myself a "suburban mother".
Students cheated in my class the other day. I lectured the whole class about morality and maturity. The two students, after my lecture about cheating, sat for roll and then promptly left for half an hour, missing about half the class. They came back in, sat down, and then giggled over pictures on a cell phone. I stopped them at that point, having already marked them absent. After class, only one of them stayed seated when I made a beeline towards the two, the other bolting out the door and then peeking in to see if I'd released her friend. I told the remaining girl that she had to be in class, in lecture.
"Are your parents making you take this class?" I asked.
"No, I have a baby and I want to become a paralegal."
"Well, then, there's even more reason for you to be in class. You're in no position to be skipping lectures and chatting when you are here. If you want to succeed, you need to be here. Otherwise drop the class. Find a program better suited to you."
When I looked into the eyes of this girl, I worried I was looking at my children's future.
The afternoon is cold, but the house smells of flavorful, roasted chicken. My son J smiled happily and said he loves when the weather changes.
"Isn't it so cozy, mom?"
Oh it is, it really is.