reunion

we picked zoe up from ELC-2 on April 6th and brought her to our temporary home in annisquam where we've found an affordable furnished winter rental to live in while we wait with the rest of the planet for the world to restart. i hadn't seen zoe in over 3 months and i couldn't wait. we'd done all the things- we'd gotten off the plane and quarantined for 2 weeks with out seeing a soul, check our temperatures and kept our hands washed. her school wasn't meeting anymore and there were only a few kids in the residence (ELC-2) so she called us all the time- she was ready too. ready to come 'home' or whatever 'home' looks like to our family which is another blog post for another day.

the traffic was light. i called when we arrived. mike had been back to the states a month before so i asked him if he could step into the back ground and i could have the first hug. i couldn't wait. i speak to zoe every other night in africa. i'm the one who dials her number, who goes out and calls her cat so she can see her, who rallies the siblings, but when she ran out that door at ELC-2 she ran to her dad.
"mom, where's dad?" then seeing him, " DADDY!!" and gave him a huge hug.

not to be overly-dramatic but it felt like dying. dying in the way that you read about when someone has a near death experience and their life passes before their eyes. because in those moments when her staff member looked at me with that bottom-lip-stuck-out look of 'i'm sorry' and i slow-mo'ed a glance to her hug with her dad, i saw all the moments flashing before me. i felt all the feelings- the pain of watching her struggle through the past 20 years, of holding that: the smirks and the non-invites from supposedly open-minded liberal san francisco parents, the giggles and purposeful bullying of her peers, the countless times she has told me her life isn't worth it, the hours i've spent writing it all out so i don't explode. and here. here was this moment. the longest i've been away from her in 20 years. and BOOM slap. it hurt! 

and i know there is all that psychology behind it and that 'punishing the one your closest with' yada-yada, but it didn't change the fact that it felt like a huge punch in the gut. so that was the intro which i guess is good in that there was room for improvement.

i thought i'd be writing a lot. i thought i'd be here, near the water, with time and with my muse (zoe) and i'd be full of words again, but it's a different season. a different season entirely. when i started writing i needed to get through my days. there was still so much to be discovered and uncovered about zoe and her future. i was trying to do that while also trying to accept it, and what it might mean for our family. as the years have unfolded, we have more clarity and a deeper understanding of zoe. we have begun to grasp what her future may look like and in that, to accept it and look at what that means for our family.

i have a house full of teenagers right now- in attitude, habits and hygiene- their age range is 11-20. it's complicated. one wrestles with issues with identity and adoption, one with identity and autism and all that comes with that, 2 that wrestle with third culture kid issues. it's a lot. and then of course there are all my issues! it's a party over here. :) but for zoe, being 'home' means staring what she is not, in the face. it's about confronting her difference 24 hours a day. it's feeling like the oldest and the least able at once. i know it's asking a lot of her- all. the. time.

but there is something about sitting around the dinner table, the 6 of us, that in it's crazy, i love. something about my 4 babies all together, being way too loud, attitudes galore and usually mocking me, but there we are- the model of the imperfect world. hard. not easy. loud, not peaceful. sitting crooked not straight. forgetting our manners, but sharing our stories. laughing even if it's over some stupid simpsons episode rerun. laughing even if everyone doesn't get the joke.  learning that we are different. learning that we are the same. 

like the past 20 years, a beautifully bent but not broken, reunion.

#justiceforahmaud

Ahmaud Arbery. he was shot and killed by these two men while running in the middle of the day in a suburban neighborhood in february. he was killed because he is black. he was killed because of our deeply shushed brokenness. these two men didn't even get arrested. they were let go because of 'citizens right to arrest' laws and supposed self defense. an unarmed black man punching one of them to defend himself against one of two gunmen- and they were not even arrested because they were defending themselves? these are the deep deep lies. this is the disgusting, horrid, oppressive, unjust sickness that continues to rot at the core of our country. WE HAVE TO INSIST THAT IT STOP. ALL OF US.

i didn't want to watch the video but i made myself- could it really be as simple as that? YES. IT WAS. it was as simple as 2 angry scared fools shooting a young black man to death- again- and no justice being served. i feel physically ill.

rose just turned 11. for her birthday she wanted to eat pizza and watch 'just mercy' with her white family. it's an incredible movie. it's about racism and injustice and majorly broken systems. it's about voicelessness and powerlessness. just like this. just like what is happening right now with ahmaud arbery. 

do you feel sick? because you should. 

when i was 22 years old i was driving home in the rain from my premed chemistry lab and a drunk irishman came out of a pub and stumbled in front of my car. i hit the breaks but because of the wet road i skid into him and he flew over my car and landed in the street. i pulled over in a state of shock- sure that i'd just killed someone and was going to jail. it was right near the fire department so in no time there was an ambulance taking him to the hospital for his broken leg (only, thank God). at the same time the ambulance came, a kind black man walked over to check on me as i was a mess. he calmed me down and sat with me and assured me that the man would be okay. about this time the victim's brothers came out of the pub to see where their brother was and what all the sirens were for. the police told them he'd been hit and to go to the hospital. what happened next was unbelievable. the policeman came over to take the statement about what happened. i told them exactly where i was driving, how fast, when i saw him, him hitting my car etc. then they turned to the gentleman who had stopped and asked him to tell them what really happened and that i shouldn't cover for him. the police and the brothers proceeded to all try to pin the accident on the black good samaritan who had stopped to help me! i remember the conglomeration of feelings vividly. at first i truly couldn't understand how they could be confused. i tried to reason with them about the events and the logic and give them proof. then i realized they were literally trying to get me off the hook and pin it on this guy. they were trying to say that he was driving my car. i was enraged. i was yelling that this was the only person who had come over to help me, that i didn't know him so how could he be driving my car, and that how dare they try to accuse him of anything! and i kept profusely apologizing to him. (as i write this for the first time ever, i am realizing they were probably trying to say he carjacked my car, then hit the guy, that never had occurred to me until right now.)
it was a moment of shame. for me it was shocking, but for him? sadly, i bet it wasn't. i bet he wasn't surprised. and that is sickening too. 

imagine if Mr. Aubrey was your son. 

no really. imagine. your son comes home from college, goes for a run before lunch and doesn't come home because he's dead.

or image that he could be your son. that your son is someone of color and that could happen to him, and no one even arrests the killers. and it's minor news. NO ONE ARRESTS THE SHOOTERS. or that it could happen to your brother, your father, your uncle, your cousin, any of your neighbors. 

and if this was in reverse? you know what would have happened. and that difference is sickening too.

IT IS NOT OKAY. IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO FEEL BAD. IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO CRY. IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO FEEL ANGRY. WE NEED TO DEMAND JUSTICE FOR HIM. WE NEED TO DEMAND THESE MEN BE BROUGHT TO TRIAL WITH AN APPROPRIATE JURY THAT INCLUDES THE PEERS OF THE VICTIM TOO. 

sign the petition, make the call. pay attention. be a voice. (in case you are wondering, i pretty sure this is what Jesus would do)




here is what you can do:
Call GA Gov Kemp's office 404-656-1776 and demand justice for Ahmaud Abrey
also their website: www.gov.ga.gov then go to 'contact us' then constituents then services and leave a message
also can call the Attorney General 404-656-3300

 #JUSTICEFORAHMAUD

perspective

we have now had 3 days of sun. in a row. this is life giving to me. life giving. it's actually surprising how much my mood is tied to the weather. i mean i like a rainy or cloudy day once in a while. stay inside, snuggle up with a book, bake something, but that's like 1%-5 % of the time. the rest should be sunshine, warmth and outdoor time. April was so rainy and dismal for me, that i actually looked up when the Mayflower landed because i was so sure that i must have had it wrong. it must have been in early summer when people thought this was a lovely warm climate because what fool would choose to settle here otherwise? i was wrong it was november 6th. (mike said the kind of fool who had been traveling in a boat for 3 months and was happy to hit any land at all).

two of my kids are doing geometry as part of their math curriculum right now. and in geometry it really helps to remember perspective. looking at things differently, changing the way you see the shapes and their relationship to each other can give you insight into the problem.

on sunday morning i was making coffee and thinking about perspective alone in the kitchen and i realized (as if it were new information) that we will get back to uganda, eventually. that this time of staying at home and social distancing will eventually come to an end as all things do. that like with geometry, i can change how i look at this. i can step out of right now for a minute, look at the bigger picture where life returns to more normal (different yes but not this) and i can see hope. i can see dinner parties and faces in full view and even eventually hugging people. i can see bringing our own bags to the market again and talking with strangers at the store (even past 6pm) and other things on the news and my kids having friends to play with and peers not just parents for hours on end. but.

but i could also see the healthy changes all around that hopefully we will choose to keep. families on walks together. john krasinski's 'some good news', emphasis on others, valuing teachers, taking a hard look at the social determinants of health and the disparity and it's deep roots, choosing to change our perspective as a country. 

then i stepped back into the moment. out in the yard there was a red fox. she ran from the side yard to the back yard and stayed for a few minutes while the kids and i watched her, then she ran off. a pair of canadian geese flew close overhead honking- alone together- social distancing as well. last week a coyote ran down the road in front of the house and we are surrounded by wild turkeys. gifts. beauty.

i went on the porch. that warm sun. the leaves starting to break from the buds. pine needles sparkling. perspective changes everything. perspective and that great warm ball of light.