And Now For Something Completely Different.

Just two years ago...on a planet far, far away from the one I'm on now.

I can't remember if I ever posted this, but I just stumbled across it and it gave me a deep (and deeply needed) laugh. Mattie came to NH for a visit a couple of falls ago and this is the kind of shit we get into when we're together. All editing credit goes to Mattie. Dirty Chirl (sister #4) is on camera duty and Katie (sister #3) is on commentary. Bec (sister #2) provided the backyard and I'm sure Tara (sister #1) called at some point that day. I'm in charge of gravity (though some might argue Mattie had some responsibility there as well).

Let's all get a laugh at my expense, shall we?

P.S. Don't we all think Mattie should come back to the 'shire again soon so he can cheer me up and we can make more fun videos?

(Can I get away with the 'shire? I mean, can I?)

And fall used to be my favorite time of year...

I’m enjoying a spiced pumpkin latte right now at my usual coffee shop. I haven’t been here in weeks, wanting to be mostly home these days. Even a coffee shop feels chaotic and overwhelming lately.

I sat in this exact seat last year when I returned to New Hampshire after spending October 10th to November 5th in Rhode Island. Only a couple of days after my mom died.

The crisp air brought sorrow this year. I hadn’t expected it to hit me this early but the wind changed and my body understood its meaning before my mind did. A limbic brain remembering the chilling fear that came with the chilling air; the falling hearts with the falling leaves. The anniversary of her dying is hitting before the anniversary of her death.

I am slipping into darkness, I can feel it.

Let me say this: I have safety nets in place. Medication. Therapy. Dan.

Still a sadness cloaks me so completely that I sometimes experience a sense of almost amnesic displacement---Who am I? Where am I? What am I to do? It's worst at night, of course.

I look for her everywhere. When Dan and I drive through new towns, I expect to see her walking out of stores. Like she’s hiding out and not gone. I found an old cell phone recently and when it worked and I saw that there were messages from her, I thought that I had found her. She’s been writing to me here this whole time! My heart swelled and deflated so quickly that it was in sharp pain, like when you turn your neck too quickly in a way it's not meant to go. My heart won't ever know my mom in the same way and it is straining to catch a glimpse of her.

I am looking out this coffee shop window now, hoping to catch that glimpse. I am imagining spotting her across the street and watching her look both ways before crossing towards me. Sneakers. Her brown felt coat. Her purse strap across her chest. Smiling. Laughing and waving to the drivers who let her pass. Beaming as her eyes meet mine in this window. “Here I am,” she’d say. “Here I am, my Laura.”

I can picture this so vividly---I understand now why they put these sorts of scenes in movies---that I am crying in this shop now, my face down and covered with my hand.

The memories of last October are haunting me. The fear. She began sleeping sitting up, falling asleep mid-sentence. Sometimes she woke not quite herself, speaking words that didn't make sense and scared because she was aware of it. I would tell her to ride it out, to not worry if she didn't make sense. Her fear haunts me most.

So, I'm not sure how much I'll be writing this month or even during the coming holidays. When I do write lately it's about these memories that keep flashing through me, in feelings if not pictures. The 911 calls, holding her hand through panicked, insufficient breaths---I'm not sure I can share those here. I mean just how much of a downer can this blog be? But maybe I'll want to. Hard to know anything for certain these days.

Who am I? Where am I? What am I to do?

Lots of laundry and cleaning and even cooking. Sometimes moving seems the only option. Sometimes not.

Which isn't to say there aren't moments of levity. My mom was laughing the night before she died and taught us how to always find the crumbs of joy even in times of famine.

The other night Dan painted my toenails in the most beautiful act of just being there that I have ever witnessed or experienced.

Modern Family has me laughing hysterically every Wednesday night. (Dan and I started this comfortable little tradition of watching it from bed because 9pm seems a reasonable---if not late---bedtime lately.)

I've had two nice lunches with my sisters and dad in the last week.

And then there's the wonderful warmth of this spiced pumpkin latte.

My mom would be glad for all of this. Still, particularly on rainy days like this one, I only wish she and I were watching a Lifetime movie in her family room, both of us falling asleep after having been up all night like we were last year. Even at its worst, I loved just sitting with her.

Sometimes when I close my eyes for a nap it feels like she is in the room with me.

My dad's health is uncertain to say the least and saying the least is what he'd prefer I do, a choice I understand and will honor. My family is in a sad transition of trying to relearn who we are to each other within the context of this broken version of our family.

It's just hard. Like I said, I hadn't expected it this early but then nothing has been as I anticipated.

She would love the orange leaves. She would love this rain.

And I would love her loving them.

This is where I am. Who I am. And there's nothing to be done other than acknowledging it is so.

How satisfying is this?

I should be embarrassed, shouldn't I be?

But I'm not. I look at this and feel a really ridiculous amount of pride. We don't even have pets or kids! What would your sludge pot look like? Perhaps I could make a business of doing sludge pot readings.

My Mama's Rainbow is back and all cleaned up and purty and yesterday it had its first romp around the apartment. So...much...hair. Also, spiders. Our apartment is where daddy longlegs come to winter. This is extremely unsettling for those of us in this apartment who are certain that spiders mess with sleeping humans for sport.

I am cracked up by the amount of Rainbow loyalists that I've heard from since posting this. I feel I've tapped into some type of underground cleaning society. Perhaps we should all meet up and cross hoses.

So, apparently vacuum sales are born, in large part, from leads generated by users. For instance, when I told Brian that my sister mentioned hating her Kirby, he suggested I talk her into having him to her house for a 45-minute free demonstration on the latest model (which is apparently Rosie-from-The-Jetsons-good). I told him I'd see what I could do. This being my "public forum," I am mentioning it here because somewhere in my heart I feel this is an old-school good deed during hard economic times.

If anyone wants a Rainbow demonstration (I can't believe I'm writing this), let me know and I'll contact Brian to give him your info. Full disclosure: If I get him two demonstrations---without anyone purchasing a thing---I get a free Rainmate which is an air purifier that sounds like the porn version of Rain Man. I don't really need an air purifier but the idea of winning something is always delightful.

Did I mention that Dan has suffered from asthma since he was a young child.

I know Brian will travel anywhere in New Hampshire, which I assume means he'll likely cross a New England state border or two. Did I also mention that, "The Rainbow is certified asthma & allergy friendly™ by the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America*."

So it's sexy too!

IF YOU CALL NOW, I'LL EVEN THROW IN THIS LIGHTLY USED PLUNGER!

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

I'm really not trying to break into the vacuum business here but I told Brian I would do my part and now I've done it.

Today Dan and I are going on a Target/Christmas Tree Shop field trip. Welcome mats, throw pillows, storage totes, oh my! I woke up excited about it which I find a bit depressing. Maybe we'll even have lunch at the Target food counter!

Vacuum referrals and weekend trips for household wares---it's all feeling very domestic around here. We'll have to have sex in a movie theater tonight to prove to ourselves that we're still a childless couple in our prime.

Or, we could take turns throwing random crap on the rug and vacuuming it up to see what it looks like in the Rainbow's water tank.

Tough call.