Thursday, August 25, 2016


And I don't mean Maine, and I do mean Cape Cod.  With my mother and sister I embarked on my first family vacation without a husband... And believe it or not, I missed him.  I am not shocked by it, but my last few days have been full of grief and so I am not surprised... And the kids miss their goofy dad too. . . And then I didn't, because I actually, in myself, Was much more relaxed and able to see the reality that I both had, and still have. I am so much more than I was able to express while with him, with all of the accommodating and the background living. While he lives a kid-free life, doing yoga in the park while not arranging a babysitter first, or even realizing the difference, I want to fuck him up.  But then I remember what being a mother means to me, and how my marrow is married to the life that I am in now, as a whole part of a family...and was then, too... and it all smooths out. Mostly. It is complicated. Again and again and again.

His loss. In so many ways. And he'll never know.

And I'm here in the land of kitsch and tourist, and in the place we are staying it is very possible to escape the kitsch but it is a matter of turning your back, only.  The simplest and the most pointed action.

I'm asleep to the sound of the waves, and waking to the sunrise...and in the waters, and sands, the kids are sun-kissed and exhausted.

And I've got way better photos, but the colors are all like this...