There’s a scene in one of my favorite movies, “The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood”, where the heroine/villain (depending on the scene) has a very quiet inner breakdown. She gets up one morning, gets in her car and drives away from her home and four small children (thank god she had a nanny), goes to the beach and gets a hotel room and smokes, drinks and sleeps for days. When she comes to, she calls room service and inquires what day it is, asks for coffee and goes home.
Can I get a ticket for that ride please? Okay, maybe not exactly like that, but close. All week my high wire act has been more precarious than usual. The air up here is so thin. It’s like all the oxygen is slowly being sucked from the room as I got closer to Daddy’s birthday and I can’t breath. On the outside I give all the right answers, perform all required tasks, held that balance pole at just the right angle to keep my feet not-so-firmly planted on the wire, but boy did that wind blow. This high wire act is exhausting.
I’ve had seven months worth of holidays, why is this birthday thing so freakin hard? Maybe because it was HIS day. A day to celebrate just him. Last year when I made his cake it had a little wind up toy train on it circling the second layer. He thought that was the funniest thing and of course he loved all things Train. And he made me feel like I could do anything.
I put his watch on every morning and miss him when I check the time. I shuffle through the house in his over-sized Daddy slippers and I miss him. I drive his car to town and wish I was still riding shotgun instead of being behind the wheel and I miss him. I wonder what kind of cake I would have dreamed up this year and I miss him.
I’m not sure what good running away would do. Where would I run? Maybe just for an hour or two….jump off the high wire. Is that allowed? Who has the rule book…I need to consult.
Happy Birthday Daddy….. I miss you.
To be continued…..