This summer I’m going to find a new job. Or a new career. Or both.
This summer I’m going occasionally eat DQ ice cream for dinner.
This summer I’m going to make bedtimes later for the girls.
This summer I’m going to take my daughters on sushi and movie dates. I’m going to take my kids on dates, one on one. I’m going to take my son to the zoo aquarium and my daughters to malls and museums.
This summer I’m going to go to BlogHer. I’m going to hug old friends and meet new ones. I’m going to go to parties and actually attend a few sessions this year.
This summer I’m going to finally meet my best friend Lu in person.
This summer watermelon, cherries and strawberries will fill my fridge.
This summer for the first time in years, I’m going to host the 4th of July BBQ at my house.
This summer I’m going to buy a baseball cap and stop sunburning my head. I’m also going to carry sunscreen on my person at all times. I’m going to try and act like I live in the Mile High City for the first time in four years.
This summer, I will make slushies a regular occurrence. I will make cupcakes for no reason and buy Popsicles often.
This summer I will make fun for my kids, despite the fact that they have to be in day camp. This summer I will have fun, despite the fact that I have no time off of work.
This summer will be great. Whenever it finally gets here. Snow tomorrow? Really Colorado? Really? Ahem.
What are you excited about for summer this year?
He loves to spring the hard stuff on me at random times. My brother, he’s good at that.
We’d been hanging out at his house for a few hours. I’d played with his dog and kitties. My step-sister had come and gone. We were getting ready to go out to eat when he said it. So…I know more about our brother. Which brother I asked? (Legit question. As we have a brother that we don’t see (his family is his drugs) and a step-brother monster that I choose not to see.) The brother we have never known, was his answer.
*silence*
Oh that one. The one my dad helped create, yet never cared a second for. The one my step-mom said had been given up for adoption at birth by his mother, in Sweden no less. That brother. Huh. For a minute I considered just changing the subject. Of course, my curiosity never lets me do that. Okay dude, tell me.
What she (step-mom) told us was complete bull crap. He wasn’t adopted. His mother kept him.
I am not surprised by any of those things actually. You’d think I would have been. But no. I know my step-mom is a liar. Even in a drunken rampage of everyone’s emotions she can still pick and choose what she says.
But then he dropped the bomb. He lived in the Valley his entire life.
For those who don’t know? The Valley is the San Fernando Valley in California. It’s a large part of Los Angeles. Mere miles from where I grew up. Say 15 at most. I have relatives who live in The Valley. I spent a lot of time there as a child. Apparently my little brother lives there. Always has.
Here’s the thing though. My bro and I? We’ve (since finding out ten years ago) always wondered how we could find him. Now, we know where he lives. We know people who knew his mother back then and all logic tells us that they know her now. At least they could tell us her name and we could search her out.
I’ve spent ten years trying to remember her name, as I do remember her. She was a passing figure in my dad’s life for a month or two when I was five years old. Yet, I can’t seem to remember.
We talked about this the entire walk to dinner. We talked about finding him. About knowing him. About the probability that he’s the spiting image of my dad. We wondered how tall he might be. If he has other siblings. What he’s done with his life. All valid questions.
Except for one thing. He’s 25 years old. (Or maybe 24. Hard to know exactly.) He’s never come looking for our dad or for us. There is a very good possibility that he was raised by a man who he believes to be his dad.
While we know that in time we could get the right people drunk and find out his mother’s name and locate him…the true question is, how do we ruin someone’s life like that? Just because we want to know him, doesn’t mean he’d want to know us.
We have no answers. We may never do a thing. Maybe just knowing he was raised in the same area as we were, is enough. That he wasn’t given up in Sweden. Maybe knowing that he’s alive and could easily locate us if he wanted too, is enough.
I know how to be a good sister to my bro. We were raised together. I know what he means when he says something odd. I know he’s the only person more stubborn than me and that’s saying a lot. I know that when he calls me late at night, he’s lonely. I know that he’s one of the hardest working men in this world. I know that he tells everyone he doesn’t want kids, but will make an amazing dad one day. I know him. He knows me. We are very close.
We decided to sit on this decision for awhile. Maybe a few years. We both said, we’d let it go for now. Until we have an answer to the question, if it were us, would we want to meet us? Would we want two adults showing up and claiming to be long lost siblings, if we’d never been told our dad wasn’t our real dad? If we knew nothing, would we want two strangers ruining the life we thought we had?
Until we know, we wait.
Last week was amazing. A much needed break from the nightmare of the past few months.
There was sushi and cake. Lots of cake. Cupcakes and whipped cream too. There were days spent shopping. Hours spent laughing. There were long conversations with my best friend. Many, many dinners out. There were visits with friends and family and best yet, friends who are like family. There were dozens and dozens of amazingly sweet birthday messages from all of you. There was a plane ride where I talked to the nice lady next to me for two hours straight. And the plane ride where I read Ree’s new book for two hours straight.
At home after five days gone, there was happy kids. Chocolate and jelly bean day. Stuffing and hiding plastic eggs for three kids who managed to find them all. There are parents who just moved to the state after three years of planning. A grill sitting on my back patio compliments of my step-dad. And plans to paint my bedroom this coming week.
For nine full days, I had a break. A glorious, amazing, fabulous break. A much needed break. I was able to breath. I was able to laugh. The constant pain between my shoulder blades went away and my ulcers went back into hiding.
Last night as I walked toward my sleeping sick son’s room to re-dose him with Motrin, I ran smack into a wall. Yeah, I’m slick like that. It felt like being hit with reality. This morning I’m sure of it. I’ve been smacked with reality.
Today is very real. A harsh, non-fun reality. One with a job I despise and the knowledge that I need to start looking for a new one yesterday. Today there is the knowledge in how much work comes with that. How tired the very thought makes me. Today there is a sick boy who has a doctors appointment in an hour for what I know is an ear infection. Today I need to start exercising again and set down the jelly beans. Today I need to pay bills.
Yes, today is real. Today seems a bit grayer and much more lonely.
When I close my eyes though, I remember last week. I remember the smell of the moisture in the air in California. I remember the smile my dad had when I showed up to take him to lunch. I remember good food and great friends.
Hopefully it will carry me through for a while.
Would you be willing to give me a birthday gift? It’s pretty painless on your part and I promise it’s free.
Hi. Aren’t you looking pretty today? Wait. Wait. Stay. I promise this is painless.
Today’s my birthday. Lucky 31. I’ve decided it’s going to be my lucky year. You just wait and see.
Anyway, today is my birthday and I was wondering if you all would do something for me. We’ll call it: Issa’s birthday gift. What I’d love from each of you is actually pretty simple. Two things actually. I know, I know, first I say one and now it’s two. I’m needy, what can I say?
The first is: would you please tell me something good that has happened to you in the past month? Until Friday of last week, my past month and a half was completely shittastic, so I’d love hearing anything good. Even if it’s small.
The second thing is: if you blog, will you please find one post of yours that you’d like me to read?
See, I want to catch up. I want to know what all I’ve missed in the past month. I really do. However, in all honesty, there is not enough time in the day or week, for me to read nearly two months worth of missed posts. For my birthday, I need to commit Google Reader Bankruptcy. That’s where you all come in.
Here’s what I’ll do in return. I promise to read each post sent to me and even comment…although you have to give me say a week to do so. That’s my thanks to you guys for keeping me in your readers, even though I haven’t done a thing online (except sometimes occasionally okay often whine on Twitter) in a month.
Thank you in advance. I promise to come back next week with a what I’ve been up to post.
This is my 500th post. 500. It seems like such a big number. I thought long and hard about what to say on this post, especially after not posting for nearly a month. I knew that my first post back, would be my 500th post. I wanted it to be good, not just a this is what I’ve been doing post…which I promise you will get later this week. No, this one needed to be special.
Then it hit me. This could go up today. See today, April 19th is my best friend Liz’s birthday. So this, my 500th post? Is for her.
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Me: How’s the kitty?
Her: I want chips and salsa.
I laugh out loud to myself. Our text messages are often this random. She is the only person I can text like I would talk to if she were sitting in the room next too me, instead of 1230 something miles away. Anyone else would look at our texts and possible think we are nuts. Yet, it makes perfect sense to me.
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I read a post a few weeks ago on BlogHer about online friendships. It was called: Are Online Relationships Real? It wasn’t saying that they weren’t real, but it made me think. I’ve had this conversation many times. Sometimes with people who have no clue about it and think I’m insane. How can you be friends with people who you can’t see all the time, is always their question.
Other times I’ve had this conversation cramped into a hotel room with six or eight other people. With friends who understand and have had to have this conversation themselves with others who don’t get it. They are friends. Great friends actually, who I wouldn’t know if it weren’t for this online world. I know first hand that online friendships are real. I have many of them. People who are with me through thick and thin. Some I’m met in person, some I haven’t. I’ve found that it doesn’t really matter. I know who my real friends are.
True friendship is not dictated by proximity. It’s dictated by love and support and the ability to be there for another person, even when all you can do is say: I’m here. I’m listening and holding your hand from here. It shouldn’t matter where here actually is.
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We met for the first time in September a year and a half ago after six months of non-stop talking.
What if she’s some crazy ax murderer, he asked me the night before. Dude. First? I already met her husband. Iss, there can be women ax murderers you know. Okay fine. Well second? I’ll be in Vegas. There are great CSI’s there.
It was a silly argument. I was nervous, but I had absolutely no fear about my best friend being a closet ax murderer. Even before that trip, I called her my best friend. She already was. My best friend twin soul sister.
There is this scene in the movie Julie and Julia where Julia Child meets for the first time a woman who she’d been pen pals with for years and years. I adore it. When I saw it in the theater it gave me chills. That’s what it was like for me, meeting Liz. Being able to hug someone who you’ve considered your best friend for months and months? I can’t even explain it.
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Our friend Lu calls her the wizard. Because she’s quiet, yet when she does talk, it’s exactly what needed to be said. She has a way with words.
She’s who I text for any and all cooking needs and questions. Even when she laughs, because I really do suck at cooking, she always knows what to do.
She’s the person I need when I’m panicky. The one who can always calm me down, no matter what is going on.
She always helps me see reason through the crazy. She’s always there to remind me that just because I think something in my head, doesn’t mean I need to apologize for it.
Really the girl deserves a medal for being best friends with someone as crazy as me. Or maybe she needs her head examined. Both. Yeah, it’s probably both.
She’s the only person I listen to the first time. (What can I say, I’m a stubborn ass.) Somehow she knows exactly what to say to me, to get me to do the right thing. Or to you know, stop being a stubborn ass.
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I went to her house, after Logan left me. There is no where else I wanted to be. On the side of a road one day, looking at the ocean while I sobbed, she swore to me that this wouldn’t kill me. That I would get past the pain. That one day I would feel like a whole person again and she’s be there to remind me that I did make it.
Even though I knew she was probably right, I didn’t believe it. Yeah. I was wrong on that one. I’m wrong often. I get caught up in my head when bad things happen. Sometimes I need a huge light to see reality. She tends to be that huge light. Maybe one of those lighthouse lights.
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I still remember the day we started talking. How funny that two years later I remember a single day. I’m not sure I can tell you what was on TV last night or what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember that first DM conversation two years ago. Maybe it’s because it was significant. It was the day I made the greatest friend I’ve ever had.
Every day I know my life is better because she is in it. She makes me strive to be a better person, a better friend and a better mother. She is brave, smart, amazing, kind and beautiful and I absolutely adore her.
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Happy birthday Liz. I’m so thrilled that I get to spend today here with you. Love you to the moon and back.
xoxo, Issa
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