My grandmother is in the hospital, apparently having lost her mind. Granted, this is after years of battling Parkinson’s disease and watching her daughter, my aunt, recently succumb to cancer, so it was quite inevitable. I am not shaken much, as she hasn’t spoken to me since I had Ashleigh (the whole child-out-of-wedlock JW goop). Nonetheless, I feel sadness, listening to my mother attempt a humorous spin on the news.

As I hear her mention how tired she is there is a slight rustle in the background. A magazine, catalog, papers of some sort, and I imagine my Mom’s callused fingers turning a fresh page, a hand sliding across the unseen text and images each time. She is coping, will make it through, but is worn, more so from trying to ignore than anything else.

I recall sitting across the table from Mom as we listened to an old radio from Uncle Charlie, either Paul Harvey, Prairie Home Companion, or Music with Mousekiwitz playing loudly. Though blind, Mom usually had a permanent half-smile upon her slightly tilted head and a look to her glass eyes that said she saw all she heard. As we sat there, myself wondering why we didn’t have a TV like others, Mom would grab a magazine from our regularly updated stash. Once I could no longer resist and asked her why she was looking at it upside down and she responded with a chuckle and a comment about touch. Each page she turned would be followed by a tap to the beat or a pause. Often, a moment would be worth laughter and she’d hesitate before returning to the papers, lift, drop, brush a hand gently against the page, turn.

There were times, more so as I grew older and as a teenager, I would find Mom alone at the kitchen table, the radio off, a catalog beneath her fingers, and the smiles were non-existent. Mostly I knew why the change, often I was full aware of my wrong doings, of others’ actions and I would sit in a wobbly chair, finding a magazine of my own. Silent save for the swish of the papers, Mom and I would turn our pages, hers upside-down and backwards, my own slowly, so as not to miss each item though already memorized.

On the nights sadness flooded Mom’s face, I would mouth “I’m sorry”, knowing all too well she could not see. Sometimes I would rest my head, unable to speak, never one to know what to say to others and wishing I could hug my mother without feeling as if in a play, a character.

I still flip through magazines, one of the simplest ways to calm my nerves, put a halt to a ripening panic attack. When I spoke with Mom I could feel my hands rooting, reaching for a book, a catalog, stack of bills, anything to sooth. Finding a pile of drawings from Ashleigh, I swallowed the bitter laughter as she attempted again to make light of the situation. I mouthed “I’m sorry”, though this time audible. Understanding the need to touch, to feel while feeling, after completing the conversation, I glided my fingertips across the waxy crayon drawings, a tilted smile upon my face.

Over the years I’ve found a pretty face is…just another pretty face. I acknowledge, enjoy a handsome man, smile at the natural beauty of a woman, but those I see often tend to blend in with the others…save one. Now, months later and I still feel my face warming at each visual, an instant smile and crinkling around my eyes upon viewing the same.

As a teenager I transformed to mush in the presence of an obsession, and I’ve displayed my tilted smile with nervous energy on first dates. I have been anxious, felt inadequate but for once I am not unnerved, nor uncomfortable. Such an unfamiliar difference this new face brings, and exhilarating company aside, I am grateful for the reoccurring chances to enjoy…and will not hesitate to pursue more. My usual self-questioning while gazing into the mirror increasingly fades as I see, twinkling eyes, welcoming lips, age-defying features glowing with the color of weekend sun, and at times, glistening from exertion.

I write of such things, of one face, as it is burned within my mind, an unshakable image no matter the attempted distractions.

All attempts on my part to shake the sour outlook on the day have been counteracted with the most amazing displays of idiocy by others. To label one of these as a pomous cock would be insulting the male appendange, and to insinuate another person’s actions were careless only deminishes those who do care.

So I’m a tad snarky at the moment. Perhaps I should head to the gym and punch the bag a bit, do the whole “imagine someone’s face on the bag” imagery trick for a bit of therapy. I doubt the collage of people would fit.

Mother’s Day weekend was awesome. Sure, Ash got sick at the Wild Animal Park Monday afternoon, but the prior few days were just perfect. Beyond what I’d hoped for, the overcast skies made for perfect hours at the beach. Ash laughed, scooped, dug, sifted and poored sand, only stopping for bathroom or snack breaks. I built sand castles (more like mounds), enjoyed a book for the first time in months, and fell backwards each time Ash ran to me exclaiming “I miss you”, plowing me down with giggles.

I’m still trying to get the sand out of my car.

For three days it was our world, and though Ash will be returning to Texas for three months, I’ll enjoy our world for three more days.

I never thought being away from Ash would be so difficult but each time she visits her Dad I am sad, an emotion highly reserved all these years.

Looks like I’ll have to keep busy this Summer.

View: La Jolla Weeked Photos

Ash and I wore each other out this last weekend so I’m pretty much left with little to say but “whew, that was fun”. Here’s the May gallery, most pictures from this last Saturday and Sunday.

I do believe I am satisfied with my new look on Niftyfingers. There are still some things to complete, such as moving all my writings over, change some font sizes and such, nothing big, so not too bad. I’m still playing, but sure feels good to do so after such an absense from web schtuff. Now, to kick this insomnia, because two hours of sleep does not leave me in a pleasurable mood, save of course for the earlier giddiness of exhaustion.

NOTE: I just realized the right side navigation is showing up below all the content in IE. Fuck IE. I’ll be working on that sometime soon, until then…at least it’s perty.  All fixed, but if you have any problems viewing, let me know.