i called michael tonight. he got the x-ray results to see what the damage was that was inflicted by the mother-hell-hug. the doctor said that there was no evidence of problems in his spine. in fact, the curve of the spine is now better than it was. the doctor surmises that my overly emphatic hug somehow aligned his spine. the severe pain he suffered from my “adjustment” was probably caused by the suddenness of the therapeutic hug. heh.
motherly chiropractic ‘r us.
Category: Uncategorized
-
-
wish i could gather up my children, turn our clocks back and heal the past of hurts and trauma caused by my poor judgment.
if only…
i don’t know what to do to ease it all; smooth it out; kiss it better. brni says write it down. but that scares me. can i put it out there in black & white? can i live with myself? and do i share it with them, so that they see what i know? what i did? what i didn’t do? how i failed them both?
so, if i start, i have to start with michael’s birth. a long way back…hardly a blink of my eye. i should start soon, because if i blink again, it might be too late. -
we moved the birds out and most of the bits of clutter and clustered the plants (2 large bananas, and other way too big plants for our tiny house) into the corners, pulled out the table and used the longish plant table to extend it lengthwise. there’s no lighting in the room, so i scrounged every candle i owned and placed them around so we could see our food.
i had everything set and ready so that all i needed to do was cook and put the food out for our thanksgiving feast.
then people started showing up. my sister criticized everything. my dad kept sticking his face into mine and grabbing stuff out of my hands while i was trying to cook all the last minute crunch time dishes…you know all the stuff that gets done all at once. my son, michael finally had to ban dad from the kitchen. brni tried to squeeze in 2 more place settings when his brother and girlfriend unexpectedly arrived, upping the body count to twelve. lori began helping him and started rearranging chairs and generally confused the issue. jesse went in and used his magic to bring order back to the room.
i came within a breath of losing control of the dinner. brni’s mother and my sister had dumped a bunch of debris on the kitchen counters (fried bread (why?), purses, paper bags with nothing in them). michael (along with everyone else, i fear) realized what was happening. he held me by the shoulders, somehow centering me so that i could go on. he even managed to clear off enough space to carve the free range, freshly sacrificed bird.
finally, we sat down and the food was very good despite everyone’s efforts at sabotage.
after pie, freshly whipped cream and coffee, they all cleared out rather quickly. hate to eat and run, thanks for feeding me. among brni’s mom’s too many parting words were, “i don’t mind if we do this at my house next time. it is much bigger and if everyone else brings the food…”
my cousin and jesse’s girlfriend dropped by on their way back from their respective family feasts. we all had a wonderful time chatting and drinking slivovitz. then, in a feeling of love and warmth, i gave michael a big bear-hug and destroyed his back. his pain was intense and his left arm was rendered useless. love hurts.
i had to literally carry him, walking backwards over to the chair. after many horrible minutes (or was it hours?), jesse helped him up and outside to try and keep him mobile. they did a lot of talking and it came out that jesse’s father had thrown michael against a wall when he was eight, which michael believes was the start of his back problems. this was news to jesse (i hadn’t related details of all the violence his father subjected us to). jesse’s anger and hatred of his father rekindled in the flame of his brother’s pain. bless me father, for you have sinned.
when michael got to the point where he could walk on his own (more or less), i had brni set up the massage table. i put michael on it and gave him reiki. the only way i can describe his face, mind, body and breathing is clenched. after i started the reiki, he slowly began to breath normally. his face softened and he began to snore. by the time i was done, his breathing was completely normal and his snoring quieted. i managed to get him up to bed and tucked him in. his dogs snuggled in around him and i went back downstairs to find jess and brni doing the last of the cleanup.
it was now 3am. completely spent, i went to bed.
yesterday, we decided that the 2 1/2 hr drive home would be too much for michael. so i loaded his dogs into the back of my forester, placed michael in the front seat and drove them to baltimore. brni and loki followed in michael’s car. luckily, traffic on 95 was lighter than the usual friday afternoon/evening stop n’crawl because the gods, in their infinite wisdom, created black friday and everyone was worshiping at the malls.
today, i plan to keep my feet up and read something totally inane and entertaining. i may break out the epsom salts and settle into a tub full of lavender oil.
i also plan on canceling all future thanksgiving celebrations.
-
thanksgiving will be here soon and i need to prepare. aside from cooking, i need to find table space for 10 people. my table can seat six, but the room is so narrow that one side of the table is shoved up to the wall, so in actuality, it serves only four. so what i need to do is somehow make an L or T shaped table using my plant table. of course this means rearranging the animal cages. looks like the birds will have to be moved out…to the bedroom? and the plants piled decorative (i hope) on the floor in the corner.
then there’s the problem of chairs. of the four old thrift shop maple chairs, one was hopelessly broken. the seat was split right down the middle, one half had the back still attached, the other piece looked like a deformed stool. brni managed to glue and brace it together again. i just put the last coat of tung oil on the repair job. brni had four chairs from his small dining set that loki decided were chew toys when she was a pup. the seats were basically devoid of stuffing, which really was no great loss because the vinyl covers were a lovely puke green and had been long praying for and end to it all. so, i took them apart and have almost finished recovering them. they should be done in less than 2 hours, but that will have to wait til morning.
i’ve learned a lot about chairs and sewing today. first off, when in doubt, use a staple gun. second, where fabric is concerned, you can’t eyeball your cuts. third, bottom of the line, 24 year old singer sewing machines never die. my poor old machine has not been out of its case since 1989. when i realized i had no choice but to sew the backs of these chairs, i didn’t think it possible that the sewing machine would even turn on let alone sew. i should try to figure out how to make clothes, just to pay homage to this tough little machine.
so…i have 4 maple chairs, 4 fake wrought iron chairs with lovely new cotton floral covers in rusty fall colors, 2 very old black hitchcock chairs and just in case anyone else shows up unexpectedly, i have stained white plastic deck chairs.
i think i’m ready to plan the meal after i move the birds, lizard and plants.
this just might work out.so, now, all we need is the food.
-
eighteen women, hands pounding hearts rhythms.
the celebration centered around the birthday of one of them born 80 years ago. she told of her life sharecropping, of an integrated farming community, of the ignorance and violence of those who perceived the threat of peaceful coexistence. she quietly spoke of her years marching and serving and raising many children and the joys of her grandchildren and great grandchildren. she towered over me when she embraced me as if i were a necessary and welcome part of her life. this regal woman i knew nothing of until i entered the drumming circle.
awhile back, westlin wind asked what grace meant. grace is sue angry.
and the others…
and the shine in kate’s eyes as she nestled on the floor in the center of the safety of women…
and my computer damaged hands relaxing into the beat…the night was full of love, sorrow, humor and ceremony, but it was all so easy and natural, that it hardly seems worth mentioning.
all that counted was the beat of their drums in the night.
Croneswood Art 