I want to be feeling grateful. I have been reading loads of things about being grateful lately (any Monkees out there?) and I wish my response for this moment was just happy gratitude. I’m physically okay. Everybody’s okay. Here’s what happened….
At 5:29 this morning, one minute before my alarm began to do its thing, I opened my eyes from the most delightful dream! I love that I remember it. I can be grateful for that because I often am aware of dreams without really remembering them. (If you hate it when other people go into detail about their dreams, just skip the rest of this…) In this dream, I was in a really big, nice, new, very convoluted house, visiting my ex-husband. In the dream I was conscious of my regular life, just for some reason I was over at this house visiting and helping out – there were other people there, too, besides him, but I think it was his house. For some reason I was going to take out the trash (why would I do that with him sitting right there, I don’t know…) I took one bag of trash out to the garage, and when I got back to the kitchen the container was full again, and this time it was heavy, but I picked that bagful up and started out again. Silly man was not only not helping, he was standing in the way. Instead of getting annoyed at him, I just took a different route, carrying this heavy trashbag full of newspapers and magazines, maybe rejected mail. I was talking about recycling the whole time! I started going through other rooms in this house, and there were other people, but ex was also kind of trailing along listening to me talk about recycling, when we went into this one room and there was my daughter, about age 3!
Now, in real life I am crying again remember it all. It was amazing. There was her crazy wild hair and her warm just-woke-up self in her little pajamas – I had forgotten those pajamas, but I remember them now, white, thin, soft things with a snap front. She loved them and wore them until they were way too little for her. In the dream they fit. She was laughing and jumping, and she leaped up onto the bed in this room and said “Mama!” and I just dropped the sack of trash and there were bouncy springy hugs and baby kisses. She felt so amazing in my arms. She loved me. And I opened my eyes and it was 5:29. Right before the alarm went off.
I never want to forget that.
It think it was a beautiful, painful gift. I guess being her mama has been kind of like that.
In case you are new here, my daughter is fine. She just doesn’t talk to me. She graduated from college in December and she’s in culinary school now. I left her Daddy during her sophomore year of college and “Ruined all of Her Christmases and Birthdays for the Rest of Her Life.” I also kept her from having the Mama Who Jumped Off A Bridge. Oh well.
I’m so glad I got to see her baby self in that dream this morning. I’m so glad I remember that in real life it was like that – she did love me and there were lots of days when she hugged and kissed me and was glad to see me. I’m so glad I have an hour to stop crying before I have to go be civil with anybody. I’m so glad I have this blog to write about this experience, because I want to remember. I love being her mama. I love that I am her mama, even it if makes me cry.