Gratitude

My son has let us know today that he will not be deployed to Afghanistan -- at least not with this first wave of Marines that will be leaving soon. He seems to be a bit disappointed but we here who love him so much are so relieved and grateful. This is sure to be a very dangerous mission -- the first wave to really go in and try to dig out and kill off the Taliban. While I know that Kevin is prepared to perform whatever duty is asked of him -- and that he still may be called upon to go there in the future -- I'm so grateful that he isn't going now. I will keep his fellow Marines, as well as the men and women of all of the service branches, in my prayers even more now. Once I've said about a million Thank You's for keeping him here.

Bathing Suit Hell - Swimming Pool Heaven

I am not big at exercising -- treadmills, bikes, lifting weights, that sort of exercising. Never have been. But I've always loved to swim. My Dad taught me to swim when I was really young and I've always loved the water. But the hell of getting my 50+ body -- which is a walking advertisement for "I am not big at exercising" -- into a bathing suit is excruciating on every level. Pull, tug, yank, and then jiggle in parts I cannot even allow myself to glimpse in a mirror. Walk by strangers to get to the water, wrapped in a towel. It's demoralizing. I know you know what I mean, lots of you.

However, I re-joined a really nice gym nearby because they have a great pool, a whirlpool where I can recondition my cartilage-almost-gone left knee, and a clean locker room with "products" in the showers that I can use to wash, shampoo and condition. (Sort of luxury hotel-ish, you know?) And after suffering through the first few walks through the locker room to the pool, I've come to see that I am not the heaviest woman in the building (as I have convinced myself), or the ugliest thing on sandals, or the slowest swimmer in creation or ... whatever. And by that I don't mean, Great, there are so many women bigger than I am! I mean, look around, get some perspective and deal more gently and kindly with yourself and everyone else. It's a balancing of reality vs. the way I make-things-so-much-harder-for-myself than they have to be. I think a lot of us women do that.

There are so many of us contending with the changes that aging, accidents, illness or just plain putting-ourselves-LAST cause. Who are still trying to get it right, take the time to burn off some calories, do the healthy thing and clear out the cobwebs. Who cares if there's cellulite on the damn thighs or if it takes me longer to do 20 laps than the swimmers in the other lanes? Why should it matter? Once I'm in the water I'm 6 years old again, being thrown into the waves on a beach in Stone Harbor and riding them in to the shore. There are seagulls cawing overhead, sun beams glimmering on the ocean's surface and the warmth of a summer day beaming on my skin. What could be better than that?

So....I have to let up and lighten up on myself and encourage myself to keep tugging on that damn suit, strapping on the goggles, getting into that lovely pool and giving it a go. It feels so good once I push off from the wall, get my stroke going and start kicking. It feels beautiful. Jiggles be damned. Jump in!

My Son

My son, Kevin, will turn 29 on March 18th. He had rough and rocky teens and early twenties. Angry over our divorce, numbing himself with everything you could think of from his pain, unable to find his place in the world. He was so tough. He finally scared himself with his behaviors and his oldest friend, Drew, a Marine himself, took him in hand. Drew and I talked several times around then but I credit him with giving Kevin the good swift kick he needed and telling him he needed the professionals to kick it some more. So my Kevin, the little boy who stole my heart at his arrival and took a few pieces out of it along the way, enlisted in the Marine Corps. In 2007 with the Irag War going full tilt. He has been through boot camp and electronoics training and he is stationed now at Camp Lejeune, N.C. When he was out in California at a base in the desert, I thought they might be preparing him to go to Iraq from there. The conditions, the heat, the sand, all of it was so similar to the conditions he would face in the Middle East, I thought that might be part of the plan. But he was sent to Lejeune. And now he is hearing a lot of rumors that he and his guys may be shipping out to Afghanistan. This is the risk of enlisting in war time, I know. This is what Marines are trained to handle so they step up and do it when asked. I will be there for him in spirit and pride and love if this is what happens. But I cannot begin to say how utterly frightened and rattled I am. He'd be gone for over a year. What if he's wounded? What if his legs are hurt and he can't walk or run, or his hands were injured and he couldn't take care of his basic needs let alone play his guitar anymore? Oh God, what if he loses his life? I know this young man well and I know that there is a part of him that feels he has something to prove, he needs to test himself and show himself that he is courageous and strong and not that guy he used to be. What if he does that...and we lose him? I can't help but think these things. I'm his mother and he rests in a part of my heart this is all his. Dear God, please don't let them send him there. I nearly lost him to his own foolish choices and behaviors here. But he pulled himself up and has not only survived but transformed himself. Did he do that to die for this insane war? I love my country but I hate this war. And I hate that our soldiers are dying for people who don't want us there. Do I want them to find Bin Laden? Yes. Do I want my son in the line of fire as they do it? No. Not ever. Please, keep him here.

Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day, a holiday that hasn't meant much to me for many years. I've let the people in my life that I love know that I love them. But I don't have a man of my own and for the first time in a long time I'm really missing that this morning. Someone to snuggle up against as I open my eyes. Someone who's still sleeping upstairs while I start the day in the quiet of the early morning. Someone to bring coffee to, to share the paper with, to run errands and chat with as we go about a Saturday. For some reason, after nearly 18 years of being single, I'm feeling "single" more deeply than usual. Perhaps more lonely than alone. Soon I will have been divorced as long as I was married. Not a statistic I expected to stack up in my lifetime, you know? So in the spirit of the day I wish all the lovers in the world well. And, while I have a good and satisfying life which I cherish, I kind of wish today that there was one man who loved just me and who was here to share this kind of silly day. Some roses, a little chocolate, a nice dinner, some candlelight, and back to bed......you get the picture. Maybe next year?