Going through my Journal of 2013 and my stomach feels like its rolling over into inside out and so I pick up the phone and I leave a message for a therapist and say I want to book an appointment or session or what the hex did I say? I don’t know but I know my gut is nervous and I think, ‘ if i’m like this to a telephone, what’s it gonna be like when we’re face to face? ‘ but it doesn’t really matter because underneath all these crazed and scared feels, there’s a calm.
My mom texted me before I left for her party on Saturday. ‘Jen. Can you come up here. ‘
I went up to find her in bed in pjs with her makeup and hair all done up. Laying down against the mauve of her pillow and she looked so pretty.
“If you need something to wear I have dresses in the other closet you could wear. I haven’t worn them yet”.
” Ok thanks.
And I start to leave the room.
” oh and
I’m really nervous.”
She’s wringing her hands together.
She continues on:
” Should I have a glass of wine?
Will you come up with me if I have to say a thank you speech?
Can Zeek sit with me to blow out the candles?
Do you have any wine? Will you bring it up?’
There’s frantic and panic in her voice and she looked so beautiful in fear. I felt a glimmer of sorry for her. In what she must be feeling.
And that, she can look so together, and reveal and be so vulnerable. Like she was a little girl all over again.
She let her guard down so I could walk in and see her that way.