Saturday, June 16, 2007

It's been a really weird day

I've been stranded in Massachusetts for about 7 hours now. I've got one more hour to go.

Why am I stranded here, you ask. Don't. It's a long, weird, story. Just like this long, weird day.

When I realized this morning that I had about 8 hours where I'd be stranded, I tried to find something to do. Luckily I found a museum complex not far from where I'm stuck. Coolness of coolness, it has free public wireless internet access too.

So I got a day pass to go to this museum complex. It's a pretty little place here. I can't tell you where it is though, for reasons that will be revealed later on in the post, so hang on.

Anyway, I'm wandering around this museum by myself first thing this morning. And I'm a little blue. Not sad blue, but that kind of bittersweet mom blue when you run across something that reminds you of when your kids were little. Some of the museum exhibits are geared towards little kids, and it reminded me of when I used to do the museum hop with my son.

You remember how when you took your kids to museums when they were small? Of if you have young ones, the way you do now. You go at their pace, either as slow or as fast as they want to go through something, and there's always one or two exhibits that catch your eye. You make that mental note, "I'm going to come back here by myself someday".

But you never do. Once the someday comes that your little ones are tucked away in school during the days, spending a day alone at a museum is like this really extravagant selfish luxury. At least it was for me. Power to you sister if you managed a museum day by yourself when yours started school.

So here I am years and years past the time when I was making those mental notes, and I finally am at a museum all by myself. Guilt-free too, because hey. I'm freaking stranded here.

So did that make me happy?

Holy shit have you even been paying attention all these months? Of course it didn't make me happy, because it made me miss the little times. I rarely miss the little times, because the teen times are just so much fun. But every now and then I get these little memories of when he was small, and they make me a bit weepy.

So after doing the museum rounds, I decided to head out to the park and fire up the laptop and read a few blogs. But just as I started, I realized something. The town I'm stranded in is my mom's last name. The street address of this museum is my mom's address. Not just the number either, I'm talking the number and the name of the street. And it's not like it's Main Street or something common. Kind of weird. So I got distracted after only one blog, and went back to doing what I've been doing a great job of since May 5th, and that's staring aimlessly into space.

And as I'm staring aimlessly, I see two older women walking up the sidewalk. One looks so much like me. She's got really long curly hair pulled back in a pony tail just like mine. And she's got glasses just like mine. And as they go by, I hear the Philly accent loud and clear

"Oh wouldya lookit this. It's beeeyoutyful"

But I was good. I didn't go following them. There was a time I did when I was younger. I'd see an older woman who looked like me, or hear that Philly accent from someone, and before I knew it I was suddenly crossing their path, so I could say "Excuse me", or hold a door open for them, or somehow get into eye range. These pathetic, sad "Are you my mommy?' longings. I haven't done them in a long time.

Not even today, with so many triggers all at once.

Man I hate waits of all kinds.

But now I can leave, so I'm signing off. I'm heading back on the road again. This is a really weird day.

5 complaints from ingrates:

Judy June 16, 2007 at 9:30 PM  

Oh, Theresa, I feel for ya. I don't know what you're going through, but I do feel for ya.

I'll start this next part by saying that I don't know what the hell I'm talking about so if I misspeak or say something out of line, please forgive me. But as I'm reading this, it occurred to me that of course you're cut out of the same cloth as your mom ~ and it took you a month from learning about her and processing that information to write the letter. So it would make sense that it would take some time for her to at least process the information that you've gotten in touch with her before she responds which I'm hoping she does. I guess I just can't imagine her not responding.

I'm sure the wait is torture, especially since all you can do is wait.

Always, always wishing the best for you.

~ Judy

LeRoy Dissing June 17, 2007 at 3:14 AM  

Life is so much "hurry up and wait" but the waiting will be over soon I hope...and I hope everything goes well.

Newlyorphaned June 17, 2007 at 9:23 AM  

Hang in there Baby!

The day I learned my mother had passed away is the day I stopped looking. I grieved but the looking stopped, maybe there is some peace in that! Keeping you in my prayers!

Erika June 17, 2007 at 6:10 PM  

sometimes waiting can be the hardest thing.it forces us to think about stuff almost relentlessly.

it's no accident where you have landed today.

for some reason, life seems to stop and go and it doesnt much care for when we want things to happen.

somehow, sometime this will all fall together for you.

Hugs,

E.

Ungrateful Little Bastard June 18, 2007 at 9:45 AM  

Thanks all. And Judy you're dead on correct. I've had years and years of processing all this stuff, and even after all of that it still took me a month to work through the shock of actually having her info.

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