Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Kindness of Friends

November. Blue's birth month. I don't know how this is going to go.

Last night I returned from almost two weeks visiting friends in Colorado. I was exhausted from running around, seeing people, exercising a lot (a la Colorado!), telling the same story over again. I was ready to go home. But it was sad to be back, and back with the little guy. I read Blue his bedtime story (Draw Me a Star), disintegrating into tears the moment I opened the book. I looked at his ultrasound pictures, his footprints, and I layed his receiving blanket over me in bed. I didn't want to go to sleep, so I stayed up late and slept until almost noon. I hate when I do that! I keep telling myself it was only almost 10.


I've been meaning to share another experience from the weekend in East Hampton. I met up with my friend PH, whom I'd met in the bike shop the previous summer. He is very tall, young, sweet and overly energetic. He made a point of telling me last summer that his mom is eight years older than his dad. I could be into him, but he is still experiencing life independently. At 26 I was ski-bumming. I wouldn't want to deny anyone else that existence.

PH met me on the beach Friday afternoon, camera in tow. His car was packed to the roof as he was leaving the Hamptons for the season the next day. But he always carries his camera. The morning had been rainy, but the afternoon dried up and as we stood in the sand, the sun actually peeked through the clouds. I wasn't sure if I was going to tell him anything. Earlier in the summer, I made plans to visit and I was going to surprise him at the bike shop with my bump. That was the weekend I had to get the amnio. So I hadn't said anything.

On the beach lay a large stick, one that would make a very good pen. I asked him if he would take some pictures of names drawn in the sand, for some friends...and for me. He looked down at me and said, "Rough summer, huh?" He put one arm around me and I leaned into him. After a few minutes I said "Thank you for not letting go." He put his other arm around me, and he didn't let go with that arm either.


I guess I am just surprised. Pleasantly surprised at the kindness of others. Severely disappointed in NAWP. At 42 NAWP isn't half the man PH is at 26. Maybe I get too hung up on age. I guess I put expectations on older guys. Then again, look at me. Thirty-four, no job, never married, living at home. Oh, I've got empathy! Perhaps I should be looking for a lesbian sugar-mama who has baby fever and biological brothers. But I digress.

I have been told I would be surprised by the people who aren't there for me, and surprised by the ones who are. It's true. And the unpleasant surprises are just too painful to even write about. I try to be grateful for the love that my friends have expressed. In Colorado I could talk, I could cry, I could laugh, I could look away. I could focus on being sad--for a bit--or I could focus on other things, like rock-climbing. (Thanks JS for this pic!)
I am starting to make moves to go back to Colorado. Back where I belong. That is, I think.

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