My own Milan

So, yes. I’m back visiting your country and your city. Did not make much of an effort this time to try to see you. And everything looks much different now. Let’s say, I am seeing more of everything this time through my own eyes. And I have been seeing you. A lot. I saw your back and your hair at the plane. At the airport, I saw your hair again. Yesterday at the Cathedral, I saw your hands and I think I heard your voice. I felt your breath as I climbed up the stairs to the roof. And I felt the same excitement I felt 2 years ago anticipating our first kiss in that hidden corner. At the souvenir shop, I felt you behind me as I picked out a magnet. Will I see more of you today until before I leave to go home?

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Getting there

I’m now on a self-inflicted state of crazy.

Working an additional 1 hour per weekday to cover up for the 4 hours I cannot go to work on Saturdays because I am attending review classes to take the licensure board exam for which I also took up a sideline project to pay for these classes…

Exams are in 3 weeks and I am off to a 1 week business trip in 4 days. 5 more books to scan and highlight and try to understand with whatever memory I still have left on me. Cramming never works anymore at my age.  I’m starting to believe the old wives’ tale that giving birth significantly takes away nutrients, calcium and memory from a woman. In the past 6 years, I have been lucky that my scoliosis is stable and the long forgotten root canal appointment seem irrelevant. But my memory, yes, it’s not as reliable as it was before.

I need to work double time on my classes. I am no match to these fresh graduates who still have enough energy to do all-nighters.  My whole body shuts down as soon as I lie down beside my son to coach him with his bedtime prayer.

And I cannot will myself to start packing for this trip.  I was looking forward to go back to Italy after 2 years. The clothes remain on my dresser chair.

After I clock out today, I will need to go to the job site in another city 40 kilometers away. Going home at 2 in the morning only to wake up in 3 hours to bring my son to school again…

But all of these, I am enduring in order to prepare for our big step out of our present (hell).

I don’t know what answer to give you

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Really. What happened? I ask myself the same question. And I have avoided answering my own voice.

I am sorry.

I don’t know what happened between Hello and Good bye.

And there was not another Hello again. Not the same anymore.  I am so sorry if you think I misled you. I may have made you fall in love with me but that is who I am.  But I never wanted to not fall in love with you. I am so sorry.

Really.

The circumstances have led us to this.  Strangers. More estranged than before we first met online. And then we hoped and planned to meet in person. To finally see each other and to feel each other so close. Indeed, you were real. I was real. My heart melted a hundred times when we were together.  I wanted to stay in our dream forever.

But that was just it. A dream. Meant to be finished. To be stopped.

And it’s over. Now we’re back in opposite ends of the planet. Strangers. Loners looking for love. I found love in you. Once I felt love with you. Thank you for this. Sorry for this. I cannot give more love than what I have already given.

I still don’t know what to tell you. Please don’t ask me anymore. I’m sorry.

The Birds and the Bees

The question most parents dread have been asked to me this morning in the shower.

My little L caught me off guard again. Shampooing his hair, he traced his finger on my CS scar. I asked him if he remembered the doctor pulling him out of my tummy. He answered, matter-of-factly, that he did remember – because I told him.

The topic bored him.  Then he asked THE question. Our conversation came out like this –

L: “Mom, how did you become a mom when you never married your boyfriend (Who happens to be his biological father, by the way)?”

Uhmmm…I answered, “Well, I didn’t need to get married to have you.”  Then he answers, “Why is it when people get married they have a baby?”

Uhmmm…”Not always true sweetie. Your tita (aunt) and tito (uncle) got married in April and they still don’t have a baby, right?”

(Silence…)

Whew…and then,

L:  “So…mom…how did you have me?”

Whuuuut? Will I pretend I did not hear him while I’m washing my hair? Haha. As if he would stop without getting an answer.

So I answered him honestly, “Well…it’s… SCIENCE…you know? (I have mastered this emergency escape button by throwing big words at him a couple of times.) It’s like when we plant seeds in the soil and the seeds grow in to plants…”

I think I did well somehow. I managed to answer him with the truth and he seemed satisfied with my explanation. This reminds me of a time when he was 4, he asked me – “Why don’t we have a complete family?” I believe he was asking this because they were learning this in preschool. And I told him, “You know, every family has a different story. Some families start out complete and other families start out incomplete yet. Our family has its own story…”

He also had a phase where he kept on asking for a baby sister and brother. He had names picked out already! Marleen and Jon. This went on for 1 whole year.  Well, I told him one time, “It’s not that easy. Mom needs a partner to start a bigger family. When I had you, I had a partner.” To this he answered, “Let’s find a NEW dad!” And, “Let’s go to the ‘Persons Store’ to buy a baby sister!”

My Mantra

(A quick google definition in 0.25 seconds)
man·tra
ˈmantrə,ˈmän-/
noun
  1. (originally in Hinduism and Buddhism) a word or sound repeated to aid concentration in meditation.

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Something reminded me of my personal promise. I made this promise last year. Few days after I got my last tattoo.

This last one is actually a series (a trio?). And it reads:

“Io sono la mia Magia – Il mio Luce – Sempre nel Piacere”. A literal google translation to English  will give you:

“I am my own Magic – My Light – Always in Pleasure”.

I will write on more of my mantra in my next entries.

Have a blessed Monday, everyone.

Om Shanti.

Vivian

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Indeed, you have always considered what’s best for yourself. Alone. You always come out on top. In your list of priorities, self preservation appears three times at the top 10. I don’t think I will ever understand who you are because I will never discover what you need. Your ex was right, “There are people like her. Up until the end, they will never find what it is they’re looking for.” And I am supposed to take pity on this weakness of yours. I will not because I know you don’t want that. You have too much pride. In fact, you seemed too apologetic when I arrived at the emergency room. That disgusting excuse for a hospital. Your left leg dangling on the side. Your soiled shirt covering your exposed legs. I made no effort to fix your person. In fact I held on to my thick scarf. Just in case you might think I will let you use it. And now you are winning again. You always succeed in giving us more shit. I’m so tired of your shit. Growing up with that smell. I have managed to get rid of it years ago. And you’re back with more. Really? When will my burden of being borne out of you end?