the great escape

it's 2 pm.  only.  and i have escaped. 
i didn't even think i needed to escape, but it turns out i did. 

so i'm here at the colline- the closest place i could go and sit comfortably and write, with electricity,  and i'll be honest, a gin and tonic. (no judgement! unless you have a 12 year old with special needs who whistles constantly except when talking, and ironically demands to be treated like a teenager and stay up until 10pm, after not wanting to take a shower because she was too busy playing with her pre-school veggies tales 'junior asparagus' character, and begging for someone to help her brush her teeth.  WHAT??)

it always starts out well.  it's always about expectations. yesterday mike had told me that he thought i needed a day. that he could stay home, and i could go, and write, or work or whatever was needed to get some space.  i loved his thought, his caring, his generosity- but i said i was doing okay- and as usual we didn't make a plan. this morning, when i got back from my walk with a friend- he was dressed, shaven and shorn, briefcase bag in hand. i think i missed my window.

i have this memory of having a scratch and sniff book when i was a kid.  i recall a "scratch and sniff daddy's martini" or gin and tonic- is that possible? maybe it was written in the sixties- or maybe i've been watching too much mad men.  i mean i have been craving a little nightgown bathrobe set and thought about changing 'brynie' to 'bobby'.


we are on season two- and i'm not sure why- other than the great outfits and office furniture.  i can't think of anything worse than being married to don draper.  the lack of dynamic anything in their relationship is scarey. she is overwhelmed by the lack.  the boredom.  the absence. the disappointment that comes when the dream feels nothing like what was promised. 


i understand the overwhelm and i understand disappointment. we all do.


sometimes i look at my life and wonder why i get overwhelmed? why i'm putting rosie down for a nap- putting in a movie for the kids, doing an impromptu medical visit for a neighbor, and then running for the door.  i look at other peoples lives, other peoples complicated, and realize that comparatively, i have it very good.   then i reach the conclusion that i'm pretty darn sure someone else could do all this much better- that i must be the wrong girl for the task.

yet i know that's not true.  i know in my heart that i am exactly the right girl- or will be someday- or am becoming. i know that i'm seeing through the glass dimly.  there is fog and a long path and someone is repetitively poking me- but this is somehow orchestrated- somehow exactly as it is meant to be.

God in her infinite wisdom, knew that i would go out of my mind if i were a 1960s suburban housewife with two normal children and a very distant husband. that i may in fact, do better with the crazy.  that if it wasn't built in, i might go looking for it.

so here i am.  feeling somehow weak that i needed a few hours with out the constancy of questions, the perpetual whistling of zoe, the forever stepping on of lego parts, the eternal quest for more food, and juice, and ways to annoy your siblings. feeling badly that i've briefly fled the coop. 

but. 

we do what we can.  we do the best we can. 

lately when i put bryn to bed, he asks me to sing, 'that rain song'.  it's a song that i made up a few months ago, with an old sounding gospel tune.  the words go like this:

oh sweet grace
won't you rain 
rain down on me?
oh sweet grace,
won't you rain 
rain down on me.

early in the morning when i rise
won't you rain?
rain down on me?

in the afternoon when i am tired,
won't you rain,
rain down on me?

late at night when i close my eyes,
won't you rain 
rain down on me?

and when the darkness it disturbs,
won't you rain, 
rain down on me?

oh sweet grace,
won't you rain,
rain down on me.
 

sometimes that grace just comes.  sometimes it's there all day, or it's hidden in the bible words i read in quiet of the morning, or in someone coming over for tea.  or sometimes it's in the great escape- across a busy street in a small african town, in the heat of the afternoon sun.

won't you rain,
rain down on me.