relationships

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empty-nesting

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Our nest was empty today.

And it felt sort of like when Rudy lived in Arkansas.

And I lived here, in California.

So many days came and went.

Both of us experiencing life without the other.

Mostly, only words said how we felt, or what we were thinking.

Gestures and body language played an intermitent role in our relationship.

Those are days that will forever be distant.

Days that cannot be redone.

Days that are, thank goodness, over.

But.

Today.

I am reminded of those distant days.

Because.

Here I am. Here we are.

In the house. Together.

Without kids.

No one is mumbling on the phone with friends.

No one is singing along to the lyrics booming from a computer.

No one is chatting. Talking about a day in the life of.….

And it hits me.

Both softly and a bit aggressively.

That life will be sort-of-like-yet-not-exactly-like-but-in-a-way-it-will-be-sliced-up-similar-to when Rudy lived there and I lived here.

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boys of summer, too

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Brad, once again, asked if he could go the beach with a different set of friends than those from the boys of summer at Arch Rock in Corona del Mar. And once again I said sure. This time he was heading to Huntington Beach to partake in the festivities planned for the last day of the US Open of Surfing.

The enormous crowd of people was overwhelming. Bare and flip-flopped feet seemed to cover every inch of the paved and sandy ground. Yet, under the heat of the sun, everyone seemed to be anticipating an awesome day. Fist bump greetings and smiling faces filled the area near Main Street, directly across from Huntington’s famous pier.

The bumper-to-bumper traffic, though, was not cool, so as I neared the boys’ destination, I told them to jump out here! In the middle of traffic. They did. Quickly. Yelling, thanks for the ride! as I maintained my stationary position. I waved, unsure if they even noticed my farewell as they were swallowed by the crowd.

As the day at the beach neared its end, as I was driving down Pacific Coast Highway, and noticed a few helicopters circling above, Brad called. Mom! There’s a riot going on here. On Main Street! After his brief explanation of what had happened I found myself, once again, tangled up with all the other vehicles in the area. I had to back track, go behind the main area so that I could find Brad and his pals on the other side of the action. Cruising along, snail-like, my jaw dropped, taking in the sight of the two rows of cops, 15-20 in each row, that I had to drive through. Brad wasn’t kidding! I mumbled to no one.  The officers were brandishing weapons of all sorts, blocking the line of cars from turning left or right onto Main Street, and also keeping an eye on all the pedestrians that were hanging around.

A bit intimidating, I admit.

The further I drove the heavier the crowd. People yelling, screaming, hoot and hollering. People caught up in the energy of the riot, saying that it was the cops fault, that they ruined everything by shooting tear-gas pellets into the crowd. When in fact, it was a fight that broke out. Some guys trying to up one another. Then other drunk and and not so drunk people started jumping in. Fighting. Arguing. Ironically, the cops used the tear-gas as a last ditch effort to dispel the chaos. They were hoping to regain control of an out-of-control situation. But it didn’t work. People became even more heated. People were nowhere near settling down.

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The boys jumped into the car, energized. I’m so hyper right now!, one of them yelled. Oh, my god, dude, that was so crazy! another added. And on it went during the ride home. Boys who got caught up in the energy of the night. The craziness of it all. They even fashioned masks made from their t-shirts wrapped around their faces, so they could breathe without sucking in the chemically induced tear-gas. As usual, I simply listened, occasionally asked a question – which they were more than happy to answer – and embraced the fact they were safe.

Yikes! I sighed under my breath.

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walking in the storm

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i walk for pleasure. mostly. but, i also walk to ebb any tension that’s built up within my being. tension, every day, or not every day, tension. that can take me down. if i let it.

with my shock absorbing athletic shoes on, my pockets on the rear sweats and an oversized t-shirt dangling over my frame, i head out the front door. leaving rudy behind in the kitchen cooking. fleetwood mac entertains me, energizes me, soothes me as i stroll up the wide cement steps which lead to the paved street, heading toward the hills.

my thoughts meander, take over.

sometimes, lots of times, obstacles pop up, challenging us. rudy and me.

he’s here. home with me. in california. holding my hand. feeling happy.

yet, rudy is disappointed. in himself. dissatisfied that he has yet to find a job. employment to replace the position he left behind in arkansas. i remind him that life is a process. a continuous process that should be enjoyed. he nods his head in agreement, but deep down he’s not buying it.

our conversations on the subject begin like cool weather: comfortable, breezy, with a bit of a chill. then, expectedly or not, it turns heated. overbearing. uncomfortable.

as i’m walking in the hills. walking up steep inclines. jogging down descending, winding narrow roads. i talk to myself. talk myself through my day. my life. our life. i work out my frustrations. make sense of my destiny. rudy’s destiny. our destiny. i consider my take on the world. where i fit in. where we fit in.

everything will be fine. i tell myself. because i know its true. my optimism tells me so. everything will be fine.

i walk into the house. five miles later. one and a half hours after i began my journey of reflection. rudy smiles at me. his glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. i smile. wipe the sweat off my brow. and tell him i love him. i love you too, he tells me. he’s my person. and i’m his. individually, each in our own way, and together we will weather our storm. and enjoy a world of sunshine.