Lake Girl

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A Letter to My Mom

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Mama, I started this letter in January 2021, when it started to sink in that this battle was bigger than all of us.  I remained hopeful but there was a deep sense of dread in my soul.  I needed to prepare myself for life without you.   In early October 2020, you shared news with me that I processed immediately as bad news.  I stayed calm and asked what you would like me to do next.  You said, "wait until I get the biopsy." We ended the call.  I fell apart.  I guess I knew then, or at least my mind did what it always does, prepare for the worst. It's not good that my brain is conditioned to do that but I would rather be prepared than blindsided.   In late November, the kids and I went for a visit.  We cleaned, we laughed, we rushed around frantically at your requests and we carried on with business as usual.  You were still you; funny, witty, fiery, but you tired easily.  You weren't running circles around me, and again, I ...
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Prom and Other Things

Today is the Little One's prom.  Not sure how we got here so fast, but here we are.  Why didn't anyone warn me about Pre Prom meltdowns?  They are a real thing.  Well, maybe I heard rumors about nail fiascos and hair disasters but those things only happened to other people.  Like exaggerators and cry babies.   Nope, they happen to real people, people like me that claim to have their shit together and people like my kid who is one of the strongest, most dynamic forces I know.   And let me tell you, they are not pretty.  And they come on fast and out of freakin nowhere.  I'm pretty sure I had a mini one in the car as I was running Pre Prom errands and listening to Bizarre Love Triangle on repeat.   I was looking for last minute things and I wanted to call my mom and talk shit with her.  And then I remembered she was gone.  I couldn't call her.  But I remembered aunt Mary said I could talk to my mom whenever I ...
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Happy Caliversary

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Five years ago, on this very day, a very worn out Honda Pilot pulled up to the Rosewood Tavern (the nickname of the house we live in) filled with the most precious and essential belongings.  The driver, a tired, single mom of two, the copilot, a strong, caring 8th grade boy and the backseat passenger, a courageous, 7th grade spitfire too much like her mama.   We arrived late that evening, unloaded as much as we could and settled in for the night as quickly as possible because the next day, I would begin "new" teacher orientation at a school district that had offered me a job just 10 days earlier.   We really did hit the ground running when we arrived and California came for us, hard.  I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.  For the first few months, the punches kept coming and for a brief moment I thought I had made a terrible mistake.  I had left behind friends, family, a great job and my cat.  I had relocated this tight triad for a b...
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