Time Tricks

Deep breath. Mind sorting. Another deep breath. Sigh.

Time. What a strange concept. I would say that time didn't really exist if it wasn't for the sun and moon playing peekaboo each day to night. And with the seasons warming and cooling with the leaves green to red to dead and back again. But really...what is time?

I celebrated my daughters 2nd birthday this past weekend. I was able to manage a day-long extravaganza for her with young playmates to adult smiles, lots of food and Blues Clues cake and presents that made it feel like Christmas again. I always wish that more friends and family would fit into my home and that celebrations never ended. I needed those laughs and conversations more than I knew. I understand now that my social butterfly sat beneath the bell jar for too long, and for one day that freedom simply cleared my cobwebs. Anya is older now and needs less suffocating attention. I was able to sit back and converse and have a relaxing drink and enjoy my friends and family. I was smarter this time and had food brought in and had the kids play at Gymboree so that my stress level could remain at handle-able versus overdrive.

I looked at my little baby and realized for the first time she was different to me. New in her features, the way she held herself, the tone of her voice, the exotic facial expressions, the language she was beginning to control; she was a little girl, like magic, turning two. She holds my cheeks in her hands and says, “o mommy.” She squeals with excitement and babbles a story that is half English half gremlin like she was conversing with Loreli Gilmore, then runs off into a million directions. I’m fascinated how 2 years have passed and I am lost finding those minutes, hours, and days that got me here. I am in awe of this being that came from love and grows and thrives and amazes me every moment of every day. I can’t allow myself to consider how fast forward my life will continue to morph or that I can’t protect her all the time and the anxiety as I must let her experience life. One day she parasitically melded with my body, the next she emerged as a separate entity.  She will continue to grow and change and develop and make friends and enemies and make memories.

I went to a fundraiser for a dear friend, a sister of hearts, my youth’s twin. The memories came flooding back as we pull into the DQ parking lot. The line already wrapped around the door and passed the other stores. I feel my heart skip a beat and my lungs compress and my muscles tense. For a moment I allow myself to be a teenager, walking from my house around the block on Moonflower, arm in arm with my partners in fun, in the warm summer evening, hearing the gathering grow in the light breeze before twilight. We would arrive in the mini strip with enough cash for a slice of pizza from Mark’s, a medium coke, and a blizzard from DQ, carrying only a pack of smokes and gum. Inevitably the crowd of crazy teens would frighten the store owners or family-type folks that saw the potential for a mob and teens up to no good and the cops would breeze through chasing us out with little success. We would scatter, hide out in the Village Mall across the street or walk the neighborhood for a few minutes only to return and dance with the cops again. Occassionally, they would ticket the brazen of the boys for saying “fuck” or “shit” or generally cursing, a fineable offence in the 80s - at least that’s what they told us..

An eternity of summers passed in that parking lot. Some nights we were stormed on and others we melted into the pavement. But always there. Together. Being kids who wanted to be grownups who didn’t know the rules or even cared to consider them. How could we be any different? Time doesn’t exist when you’re 16…you never get old and nothing bad ever happens and all we need is each other. We gossiped and lost virginity and cried and had fights. We kissed, smoked pot and snuck beer and thought that we ruled the world. It was ours after all.

Tonight I saw familiar faces, but recognized the years, more than 20, that separated most of us. We introduced spouses and children and suddenly two decades vanished, but reflected a different universe. We crowded the parking lot and filled the air with chatter. Old man winter blasted the evening air with a spring cold snap near freezing, making the ice cream event seem odd, yet you felt the determination that we wouldn’t consider being chilled out of our purpose. My eyes shifted back and forth scanning the crowd for my partners, my friends, my strength, fearing that I couldn’t accept what time was doing to pieces of my heart.

Once we settled in the back of the line, three stores down the strip, I looked up and in an instant saw her. She looked strong and radiant and beautiful as ever. Each hope she saw in the gathering made her seem taller and more grounded, yet overwhelmed. I couldn’t wait in the back for the feet to shuffle close enough to touch her fortitude. I left Rich and Anya to hold our place and held my breath in fear that she was leaving not greeting, I had to grip my panic and urgency. I couldn’t let another minute pass without holding her close and trying to take away all the suffering and pain she experienced. My bff stood there teary-eyed holding the gatherers tight for herself, and even more so for them.

I saw her brother leaning against the DQ window. He shadowed her and stood like he always did: strong and protective and imposing. He was the best big brother a girl could want. And seeing him there, knowing that he couldn’t protect his little sis from her disease, made our hug hello bittersweet. I didn’t know what to say, and felt apologetic for life putting years between our inseparable memories, but we are grown up now, and we know that love doesn’t tell time. I missed this other family of mine and I hate seeing them again under such stressful circumstances. I hated that even though we all stood there, crowding the parking lot of our childhood haunt, the warp of time had screwed it all up: it was cold and orderly and sedate.

Finally I wrapped my arms around her back and worked the smile of warmth that came over me. We hugged and cried and held each other up. I didn’t want to let her go. I could have stood there an eternity cleansing the demons from her. Her sorrow broke my heart and I wanted everyone and everything and all this suffering to disappear. I wanted to be back at the shore on Memorial Day weekend in our bikinis and a case of beer and the boardwalk after hours on the beach. I wanted to pick her up for a cruise through town on a Friday night and a party. I wanted to skip across the carnival with her, laughing and believing that nothing could tarnish our happiness. I wanted to beat and maim all that caused her hurt. I wanted her to know that I loved her so much and that I know that we have plenty more memories to make together and that life works in strange ways and to never let go her strength and hope and love.

Slowly the hum and buzz of the crowded lot broke through. People were hungrily waiting to donate their strength and health and I wanted her to take as much as her body needed to fight. I got back in line with my husband and daughter and let myself breathe in and out slowly. I couldn’t make sense of the upside down vortex that we were sharing in this place of happy memories. I knew not to try.

After our ice cream treat and Anya anxiously wanting to be free of the crowded inside of DQ we went back outside to see more phantoms of my memories continue to arrive. I looked over and saw my surrogate mom beam at the crowds gathered for her daughter. Now, a mother myself, I felt something new for this woman whom had been an integral matriarchal figure in my youth. I felt her hurt and her need to protect and confusion over her baby girl growing up and being consumed by a disease that we still understand so little about. I want her to know that I love her so much and want to help her in any way that I can that she will allow me. I don’t want her to burn up from the stress and pain. I know what she feels as the caregiver.

I circled the lot a few times confused and lost. My husband gently reminded me that it was time to go, and that he and Anya would be waiting in the car. I am grateful for his nudge and direction; otherwise, I may have taken up the block and walked into a stranger’s house that I once called home. I waited for her to catch her breath in between supporters and took my chance to hold her tight again. This time I wanted her to know that on good days and bad days and all of them in between I was here for her. We are sister and we stick together. We cried some more and hugged even tighter, but we knew that I had to go or we would never leave that moment. I had to share her with all of the other loves there for her tonight, and this whole week. I wanted her to be healed by the love that we all brought her. I kissed her hand as we reluctantly let go, waved a quick goodbye to her family, and ran for the car and to breathe again.

I can easily look back on last night and know that my mind was unable to close on time’s tricks. There I was in a place with people that bring back summer breezes and laughter to my heart, but none of us could hide from the sober reason we all amassed. The location was fitting and familiar. We could use the ghosts of our youth to strengthen and reclaim her health. She will fight and we will fight with her. We won’t let time dictate how we perceive or use or experience life. It’s ours after all.