Our House

I've been kinda neglecting the new homestead in my desire to maximize time spent playing with my friend whose departure is looming, and it has really started to show in the yard. I've been doing a minimal amount of mowing, and even that schedule has been interrupted by a mishap with oil that rendered the mower I just bought unstartable for a couple of weeks. Sigh.

Then last night, in a nearly dusk effort to mow the side yard, I managed to chop a root in such a way that my mower, which just got fixed this week, decided to quit altogether. Now it needs, at the very least, a new blade, and I need a new system for mowing the maze of rocks and roots that runs through the lawn at our new house.

I love this house, I really do. I was craving more space at the old house, the one with the postage stamp yard that was so easy to mow, and I was craving different space. That's why we moved, why I decided it was worth stretching myself financially. I guess part of me knew it would be harder to keep a bigger house clean and a bigger yard kempt, but I kinda glossed over that part in some ways too.

And in the interest of telling the whole story, I also moved because I wanted to create space for a partner. Our old house was like a womb. It held the three of us comfortably, like triplets, but there wasn't any room for anyone else there. I suppose I wanted it that way for a while. And then I didn't.

Curiously, or maybe not so curiously, our move to this house marked a shift in my relationship with my New Englander. For my part, I recognized that I no longer wanted to play house while maintaining two households, or pretend we were moving toward living together and getting married if we really weren't, so I made it clear that things wouldn't be like they were before, with him staying over more often than not, eating most meals together, etc. We both knew that his lease would expire this summer, and it would be decision time, but I don't think I ever really believed, in my heart of hearts, that there was an outcome other than the four of us living here together.

Well. Hearts are great for a lot of things, but they want what they want, facts be damned, and I'm here this morning, the morning that marks the last 24 hours that my love and I will live in the same town, to say there is another outcome, and it's him moving away, and my kids and I left to make our way in this bigger space with more possibility but also more vulnerability:

Just the three of us, we can make it if we try...

It's a good thing I've got such great kids. Last night my daughter helped me mow the lawn by doing the backyard, and then after I broke the mower in the side yard, she rubbed my arm while I cried in child's pose, my favorite asana of surrender.

It's also a good thing that I've got a pretty darn happy song here to mark my day, a song reminding us that sometimes a little Madness goes a long way:

Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, in the middle of our ...

Our house it has a crowd 

There's always something happening 

And it's usually quite loud 

Our mum she's so house-proud 

Nothing ever slows her down 

And a mess is not allowed

(Ok so maybe not every line fits perfectly -- ignore the last two and the next two for a better fit.) 

Father gets up late for work 

Mother has to iron his shirt 

Then she sends the kids to school 

Sees them off with a small kiss 

She's the one they're going to miss 

In lots of ways 

Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, in the middle of our ... 

I remember way back then when everything was true and when 

We would have such a very good time such a fine time 

Such a happy time 

And I remember how we'd play simply waste the day away 

Then we'd say nothing would come between us two dreamers

I know that we won't always live here. I know that in a lot of ways the eight years that I have left of kids at home will fly by, so I'm going to try to savor it while I still can. Someday in the not too distant future, when my kids go off to college and I go off to my next adventure, living on La Crosse Lane will be but a memory:

Our house, was our castle and our keep 

Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, that was where we used to sleep 

Our house, in the middle of our street... 

Rain in the Summertime

This is a feel-good song, and it came to me for the first time a couple of weeks ago. My kids had been fighting, and there didn't seem to be any end in sight. The next thing I knew, a big storm rolled in, and with it, a cleansing summer rain that almost immediately had my kids frolicking outside together, getting soaked, huge smiles on their faces:

I love to feel the RAIN IN THE SUMMERTIME
I love to feel the rain on my face
I love to feel the RAIN IN THE SUMMERTIME
I love to feel the rain on my face

What a quintessential childhood moment. I savored it at the time, and thought it would probably be a good idea for me to allow myself to get soaked more often in my adult life, but it's so often inconvenient when one has to meet obligations like cleaning up the kitchen or going to work, which it's not fun to do wet.

This song came back today as I rose to deal with some flash flooding issues. My son's away at summer camp this week, and my love is about to take off for his next phase of life camp, and as the rain poured down and into my basement, I thought how desperately I've wanted to stop my loved ones, and myself, from getting uncomfortably wet, literally and figuratively, and how truly futile that effort is in the end.

I didn't realize it, but this song also has some lyrics that are apropos of an issue I've been having with my legs. I've got a sore adductor, which has taken me away from doing my marathon training, and that's kinda stressin' me out. I feel like in rendering me unable to run, the Universe is trying to tell me that my attempt to do just what The Alarm is singing about here:

And then I run 'til the breath tears my throat
'Til the pain hits my side
As if I run fast enough
I can leave all the pain and the sadness behind

...is just as futile as trying to stay dry in a flash flood.

Sometimes, it's about surrender:

I love to feel the RAIN IN THE SUMMERTIME
I love to feel the rain on my face
I love to feel the RAIN IN THE SUMMERTIME
I love to feel the rain on my face
(I love to feel the rain on my face)
(In the summertime)

And with that realization, I'm making myself a promise -- that the next time a huge storm rolls in, offering to wash over me as I let go and allow it to soak me as it does the earth -- I'm gonna accept the offer.

Love Song

Today on the radio I heard one of my favorite, long lost ballads:

So you think that it's over,
That your love has finally reached the end.
Any time you call, night or day,
I'll be right there for you if you need a friend.

I had a nice long chat with one of my close friends the other night. She gave me so much love and support and assurance that everything is going to be alright that I almost thought, when I got off the phone, that it could just start being alright right then and there. Like now I've got it, so I can be done with all this heartbreak.

This morning I was super sad, and I emailed her asking why I couldn't translate what I thought I understood so that my heart and my body could get it too. Here's what she said:

"You cannot compress time, and you cannot control healing. It sucks, but you cannot organize this process, you just have to be with it.  I think it's like practicing an instrument or training for a race. No shortcuts."

Damn. My long-haired friends agree:

It's gonna take a little time.
Time is sure to mend your broken heart.
Don't you even worry, pretty darlin'.
I know you'll find love again. Yeah.

I know I will too, but I wish I didn't have to go through this. For now, I'm just going to have to trust:

Love will find a way.
Darlin', love is gonna find a way,
Find its way back to you.
Love will find a way.
So look around, open your eyes.
Love is gonna find a way.
Love is gonna, love is gonna find a way.
Love will find a way.
Love's gonna find a way back to you, yeah,
I know. I know. I know.

We've Got Tonight

Dining al fresco at a fave local spot: Cafe Porta Alba

The countdown has been on for a while now: our last camping trip, our last full day together, etc., and tonight was our last date.

When the day was just getting started, this song started blaring internally:

I know it's late, I know you're weary
I know your plans don't include me
Still here we are, both of us lonely
Longing for shelter from all that we see
Why should we worry, no one will care girl
Look at the stars so far away
We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
We've got tonight babe
Why don't you stay?

Yes, the version in my head is Bob Seger's, which is the one linked above. As much I have an affinity for Kenny Rodgers, he really can't do this song justice like Bob can, whether he's accompanied by Sheena Easton or by his longtime friend and collaborator, Dolly Parton. Even Phillip Phillips, back in his American Idol days, covered this classic (and also fell short of Bob's version):

Deep in my soul, I've been so lonely
All of my hopes, fading away
I've longed for love, like everyone else does
I know I'll keep searching, even after today
So there it is girl, I've said it all now
And here we are babe, what do you say?
We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
We've got tonight babe
Why don't you stay?

At dinner, I made a tearful toast, and as we climbed on our bikes to ride back home, I cried as these words boomed inside my head:

I know it's late, I know you're weary
I know your plans don't include me...

Part of me knows I'll be alright. Part of me knows that if this is happening, it is happening for good reason. But it feels more like trying to rip off my right arm with my left: there's no way to pull hard enough to make it come loose, and besides, why would I want to try to live without my right arm?

I Want You to Want Me

I've been aware for a while in this relationship that is now coming to an end that he doesn't need me. I'm not asking for co-dependency here, just a little healthy need for emotional intimacy. The first year and change of our relationship wasn't lacking in this department -- we routinely practiced what we called "crawling into our space" and I think it is safe to say we both felt a greater emotionally intimate connection than we'd felt before. Physical intimacy closely followed, and the desire to have as much as possible of both with each other spurred a cross country move on his part. That felt like healthy need indeed. I don't really understand where that went, and maybe I never will.

In any case, this is the song that my internal ipod dialed up for me as I was grappling with this today:

I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I'd love you to love me.
I'm beggin' you to beg me.

It's funny. When I was in college, when I was super into this song, I just assumed that those things -- wanting, needing, and loving someone all go together. And sometimes they do, as in the first half of our relationship. But sometimes they don't, sometimes they stop being closely associated even when they were at one time, and when that happens, well, it's a mother f%$*ing drag, dude:

Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
Feelin' all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dyin'.
Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?

You know what? You probably did. Because I spend a lot of time crying these days:

I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I'd love you to love me.
I'm beggin' you to beg me.
I want you to want me.
I want you to want me.
I want you to want me.
I want you to want me.

Human After All

Went for a run with a friend tonight and then had dinner afterward, and as usual, we chatted about our lives. She was very complimentary about who I am as a friend, as a mother, as a human being. It felt really good to be seen and recognized for the person I try to be.

She's struggling, as many people who love me are, with my loved one's departure. No one can make sense of it. She said, and I've gotten this from a lot of people, that she'd be angry.

I've been angry, I assured her.

And I'd be really sad, she added.

Yes, I agreed, I am sad quite often.

But in the end, I don't suppose it matters a lot why it's happening, but it's happening. Might as well accept it. As my friend Sugar said in a letter I read last night, acceptance just means admitting that something is true. It doesn't mean it's okay with you, it doesn't mean you have to like it, it means you acknowledge that it is. He is leaving.

When I got home from dinner, I watched a little Parenthood while I did some chores, and at the end of a particularly touching episode, this song played:

Remember we said we were gonna live forever
And we would paint over the writing on the wall
We chase that sunset till we're blind
Then wake up to find
We are only human after all
We are only human after all

If I'd known that it would end
I would've paid a little more attention
Memorized every look and touch
Every fragment of us

I don't know. I paid a LOT of attention, you know? To little moments and big moments. And despite his impending move, I still feel loved and cherished and adored in his presence, and I still feel those same things about him. And as embarrassed as I am about my back and forth about this relationship, mostly I just feel so grateful that for once in my life, I let my heart be in control. And my heart is very, very clear about its feelings toward him.

The fact that in a matter of days, it'll be over? I don't know how I'll cope with that. Probably by practicing acceptance, and for continuing to show up as life goes on without him:

Starin' out across the lake
That horizon's turnin' red and grey
Watch the waves as the fall and rise
Like our dreams, like our lives

Remember we said we were gonna live forever
And we would paint over the writing on the wall
We chase that sunset till we're blind
Then wake up to find
We are only human after all
We are only human after all

All Over Again

Mmmmmighty Mississippi...

Today was our last full day together, and we spent it, as felt fitting, on a little adventure. We packed up our mountain bikes and the car and we headed for LaCrosse, where we had heard there were some good trails to ride and a good place to have a beer and some food afterward. What more do we need?

As I was gathering up my stuff for the trip, the ipod decided to play one of my faves from Johnny Cash -- a good one to mark my day for sure:

Every time I look at you I fall in love
All over again
Every time I think of you it all begins
All over again

One little dream at night and I can dream all day
It only takes a memory to thrill me
One little kiss from you and I just fly away
Pour me out your love until you fill me

I wanna fall in love beginning from the start
All over again
Show me how you stole away my heart
All over again

Hard Sun

The calendar of my life and that of my soon-to-return to New Englander dictate that this is the last weekend we have to spend alone together, so spend it together we are, doing some of our favorite things. We slept in today (well actually, I slept in), rode our bikes across town for a delicious breakfast at Sophia's on the Eastside, and then took in a hilarious flick, The Internship, which had us laughing so hard that we were crying (or I was crying) multiple times.

On the way home from the movie, the radio was kind enough to deliver my favorite of all voices, and a song that felt quite apropos:

When I walk beside her
I am the better man
When I look to leave her
I always stagger back again

I'm pretty sure the first couple lines are true, and it's difficult not to hope that lines three and four will be borne out too.

I was chatting with a friend at the gym the other day, someone whose post divorce relationship, like mine, isn't working out as he hoped it would. "Whatever will be, will be," he said philosophically, and it's tough to argue with that. I'm even finding some comfort in it this weekend.

I'm also taking comfort in the fact that I'm being as loving and generous as I can possibly be in this situation:

When I go to cross that river
She is comfort by my side
When I try to understand
She just opens up her hands

There’s a big
A big hard sun
Beating on the big people
In a big hard world

Once I stood to lose her
When I saw what I had done
Bowed down and threw away the hours
Of her garden and her sun

So I tried to warn her
I turned to see her weep
Forty days and forty nights
And it's still coming down on me

It's true. I've shed a lot of tears over this, and I know that more are coming, along with days that feel like Eddie's chorus sounds:

There’s a big
A big hard sun
Beating on the big people
In a big hard world

But for today, I'm just going to enjoy this man I've loved for nearly three years, despite my efforts to stop at various points when it became less practical or convenient.

The time's gonna come, and it's gonna come soon, when I'm gonna have to turn my attention to getting over him. But not today.

So Nice So Smart

I've been too tired to blog all week, and I woke up this morning feeling pretty weighed down. My stomach still feels off --- I don't know if it's still related to the half marathon, but my legs are still sore, which is definitely related to that.

Plus, I've been grappling with how to say goodbye to the man I thought was my man for a while now. The time is drawing near, it doesn't feel good, and it makes me want to retreat into myself.

My friend sent me a beautiful book, tiny beautiful things (Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar) by Cheryl Strayed, that gives the opposite advice in a beautiful way when she says:

The story of human intimacy is one of constantly allowing ourselves to see those we love in a new, more fractured light. Look hard. Risk that.

You know Sugar, I have been risking that, but it hurts. And when my ipod shuffled onto this song this morning, I knew this was the song to mark this day:

You're so nice and you're so smart,
You're such a good friend I have to break your heart.
I'll tell you that I love you then I'll tear your world apart.
Just pretend I didn't tear your world apart...

Vessel in Vain

Yesterday was a day I'd been working toward and awaiting for a long time.  I was in Chicago for my half marathon, and lots of things seemed to be in place: the weather was beautiful, I got a decent night's sleep, I had my breakfast, got to the starting line not too early, not too late... And it started out pretty well. I paced with my coach for the first three miles and then chose another woman to stick with when my coach needed to go back and make sure other runners were getting off to a good start.

It wasn't easy to stick with my green tank top girl, but I was determined, and when I'm determined, there isn't a lot that can stop me. Green tank top girl hauled ass through the water stations, so I had to also, which meant I didn't take in a lot of fluid during the race. Partly because of that, maybe partly because of dehydrating beverages consumed in the week prior to the race, I got very dehydrated while running, and by mile 11, I was dizzy. Mile 12 I don't remember a lot of, but after I finished, I was ushered over to the med tent and eventually given an IV. Not pretty. All things considered, my time was pretty good: 2:00:48, which was about four minutes slower than I wanted to be.

On the drive home, I played an old mix CD that includes this song:

I can't be held responsible for the things I say
For I am just a vessel in vain
And I can't be held responsible for the things I see
For I am just a vessel in vain

And it got me thinking more about my experience at the race. I wasn't a vessel in vain for the whole race. Quite the opposite. But the difference between a body that is merely tired, which one can motivate by thinking inspiring thoughts, breathing, relaxing, pacing with someone, running with a coach:

No boat out on no ocean
No name there on no hull
And it's not a strain at all to remember
Those that I've left behind
They're all standing right here beside me now
And most of them with a smile

... and a body that is dehydrated, a body for which the admonition to "reach deep" comes up with absolutely nothing, that's when I really did feel like a vessel in vain. But dang, I wanted it. I really wanted to beat that old time of 1:57:

My ideals have got me on the run
Towards my connection with everyone
My ideals have got me on the run
Its my connection with everyone

And yet, as a friend said when I was reviewing the event with her -- it is amazing what my body was able to accomplish, even under those circumstances:

Such free reign
For a vessel in vain

She Must Be Somebody's Baby

I've been enjoying a little Dowton Abbey on Netflix, and on a recent episode one of the daughters gets jilted at the altar. "You're being tested!" Her mother tells her. I can relate. I feel like I'm being tested right now, and I'm trying to have faith that the Universe has a plan for me and that it knows something I don't about why my current circumstances may one day be viewed as beneficial.

After I dropped my kids at school this morning, this song came on the radio:

Well, just - a look at that girl with the lights comin' up in her eyes.
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She must be somebody's baby.
All the guys on the corner stand back and let her walk on by.
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She must be somebody's baby.
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She's so fine.
She's probably somebody's only light.
Gonna shine tonight.
Yeah, she's probably somebody's baby, all right.

And as I parked my car and got my bike out of the trunk and rode to work, I started to hear a slightly different version of the song in my head -- the full faith version:

She's gonna be somebody's baby;
She must be somebody's baby;
She's gonna be somebody's baby.
She's so fine.
She's gonna be somebody's only light...

Maybe not tonight, but it's gonna happen. I just have to keep holding on to that!

Time is On My Side

Yesterday while I was out riding my bike, this song started playing on the internal ipod:

Time is on my side, yes it is
Time is on my side, yes it is

It felt pretty inexplicable, but in a good way. Like I may not feel like time is on my side at the moment, or know that it is, but according to the soundtrack of my life, it is. The song has been on repeat in my head ever since.

I had a pretty damn good day today -- finished my taper run of 6 miles complete with a hangover -- if that isn't proof that I'm ready for my half marathon next weekend, I don't know what is!

But as afternoon turned to evening, I found myself feeling really crappy about the really crappy thing that's happening in my life right now.

I felt the urge to drink heavily and decided that I'd meditate instead. I fired up one of my favorite guided meditations in a crisis -- Buddha Transforms Difficulties -- and just about immediately started sobbing. My daughter came in to see if I was ok, and asked why I was crying. I told her that I was upset about my special friend's upcoming departure, and explained that sometimes I feel better when I stop and consciously make space to feel the difficult feelings. She patted my head and said she hoped I'd feel better soon, and then left.

Unfortunately, I didn't feel much better afterward. And when I went to look up the lyrics to this picked-for-me song, I started to say "Oh, maybe that's why this song was in my head!":

Now you always say
That you want to be free
But you'll come running back (said you would baby)
Youll come running back (I said so many times before)
Youll come running back to me

But I'm not sure I really dare hope that. I'm not sure I can bear it.

Anyway, whatever it means, I'm glad time is on my side:

Cause I got the real love
The kind that you need
Youll come running back (said you would, baby)
Youll come running back (I always said you would)
Youll come running back, to me
Yes time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
Time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
Oh, time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
I said, time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
Oh, time, time, time is on my side
Yeah, time, time, time is on my side

Made Up My Mind

In last week's modern love, author Augusten Burroughs writes about his recent nuptials, describing that at one point he had fought back his romantic feelings with a machete because there were a thousand reasons why his attraction to the man who is now his husband was impossible. And then he wrote some of the coolest prose I've ever read:

"But impossible is a concept that makes one's heart laugh and throw peanuts at the television."

I absolutely love that line. I love being led by my heart. I love that my friend from New England followed his heart to the Midwest despite his misgivings about how it might work out.

I'm not gonna lie -- I'm not to the point where I love how it has worked out, but it's pretty clear what's going on here. My mind got it a long time ago, and my heart is finally coming to accept it.

Pondering this this morning, an apropos David Gray song started playing:

So I made up my mind
I made up my mind
Gonna move on ahead
Instead of lagging behind
Instead of lagging behind

I made up my mind....

I don't like this David Gray song nearly as much as I like his slower songs about being in love. And I don't like letting go of love as much as I like falling into it. I don't suppose anybody does.

But I have to trust that my heart will continue to guide me, eventually back to that falling in love space, and I love knowing that if I try to resist it, I can count on my heart to laugh and throw peanuts at the television...