The Trouble is, You Think You Have Time

No matter who said it, it’s true. Buddha usually gets the credit for the quote, but Buddha didn’t actually say that.

(I did a little research and it turns out that it came from Carlos Castaneda, as a paraphrase by way of Jack Kornfield. I’m OK with that.)

Because no matter who said it, no matter who paraphrased it, it’s true.

One hot July day my father-in-law kissed me goodbye for the final time. As we were preparing to go home he was dozing in his recliner. The littlest things were tiring him out, and even all our rushing about didn’t wake him.

He roused just as we finished packing the car. I leaned over for a hug and a kiss, and said into his ear “I love you Dad.”

He hugged me and smilingly nodded, his eyes squinching up. I turned to leave but then went back to the chair and we kissed again.

He said to me “It always seems like the last time, doesn’t it?”

“You know,” I said, “that I love you.” And he nodded. He did. It was the last time, that time.

My youngest daughter didn’t like to sleep. I rocked her, sang to her, nursed her, rocked some more, did a trial deposit into the crib, watched more David Letterman and other late night talk shows than I would have ever thought possible.

Nothing.

I can’t imagine how many miles I rocked. First pedaling gently with the right foot, then with the left, all while droning what must be the dullest hymn ever:

We are climbing Jacob’s ladder

We are climbing Jacob’s ladder

We are climbing Jacob’s ladder

Soldiers of the cross.

Ev’ry round goes high’r high’r

Ev’ry round goes high’r high’r

Ev’ry round goes high’r high’r

Soldiers of the cross.

There are many, many verses. I climbed that ladder with Jacob every night for almost two years.

And then one night she went to sleep without a quibble. No more need for the song, no rounds to climb anymore.

I don't remember anything different about that last time. I wish I did.

In September 2003 I sat in a quiet apartment and cried for my dog. My children knew that I loved them but I couldn’t tell if my dog understood that I didn’t want to leave him.

But I had to. Along with the house and half our debt, my ex got the dog.

Bailey had been more than a good dog, he was my friend. I knew that I would get a big dopey golden retriever smile when I walked through the door, (most likely along with a slobbery stuffed hedgehog) and that there would be someone happy to see me at the end of the day.

Now I was alone. I knew I would never be happy again. This was never going to end.

My oldest daughter hated me. (If you didn’t believe me, you could have just asked her. )

• I didn’t understand her-
• I didn’t trust her-
• I didn’t want her to have fun.
• She needed to make her own mistakes.
• I should just back off, let her be.

My life was crumbling. I had too little patience and too much fear, pain and anger.

She moved out. I had failed as a mother.

My heart shattered in my chest. When I breathed I could feel it bleed.

The week before Thanksgiving, 2002. But for the stray security guard, I’m all but alone in Ross Park Mall, Pittsburgh PA.

I’ve worked all day and almost all night. The mall will open in a few hours and the calendar kiosk is still not completely assembled, the product is still in boxes.

I have to get the fixture assembled, shelves in place, before 9 AM. If I don’t, I can’t get the calendars on the fixture and the kiosk open. If that doesn’t happen, we’ll get fined.

I’m on my hands and knees on the marble floor. I’m pounding on the crooked shelves with a hammer. This was one of the last kiosks of the year to go up, and many of the shelves were crooked.

I should have asked someone to stay with me and help. I know they would have. Why didn’t I?

I put my forehead on the cool marble floor and cried. I was so tired.

Something had to change. I didn’t want to do this again.

November 2012 I held my grandson. Less than 24 hours old, he fit in one hand. How could that baby I rocked for so many miles be a mother?

I lifted him to my shoulder and hummed into his ear, starting that long slow climb with Jacob again.

We think we have time.

What we have is this moment.

~~~~~

(Originally published by the author on hitting14in14.wordpress.com)

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