The Wedding

Indeed, I frequently suffer from issues of low self esteem, often manifesting a sense that the world is against me.  Thus, the entire affair was quite fretful.  The anticipation, the unknowing, the spotlight.  Could I carry this sorrowful person with dignity and grace ?  

I was losing what remained of my relationship with my son.  He was marrying into a whole new family.  In fact, the man with the microphone had introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Martinez!  And the seating arrangements !!  Grandma was completely separated from her grandchildren whom she never sees.  This was the only thing about this grandiose event that I was looking so forward to.  Grandma's enjoyment, simply watching her grandchildren.

Though under the fabricated protection of a 'posse' of friends, my self-conscious state was on high alert to begin with when I was pulled aside by a distant family member.  She expressed her own consternations, another family member didn't acknowledge her the way she had expected, and why was it that she and her family were placed at a table so disconnected from everyone else ?  In a heightened state of vexation, I was, once again swept away.  In haste, I was escorted to the dance floor to meet my son.  A smile of complete satisfaction on his face.

We were set in position for that 'god forsooken' rite; the one in which mother and son must dance, under the critical eye of many spectators. Each and everyone, of course, would have an opinion.  I must behave accordingly.

My son embraced me, "You got what you always wanted, mom," he uttered.

I was catapulted into an utter state of delusion.  Did he arrange all of this on purpose?  
As Hamlet, had he carefully planned to present me with such fearsome punishment ???  To punish me for all my misgivings, my lack of parenting skills !!  For abandoning him when he was a young teen !!  My mind flooded with such speculation . . . Such an extravagant affair . . . Jayme's grand celebration of induction into the Martinez family . . . . 

Perhaps he detected my perplexity, he made the clarification, "I'm happy, mom. 

You always wanted me to be happy!  I'm REALLY happy."

Horseshoe Crabs

Cedar Beach, Mount Sinai, NY circa 1997

We were at one of our favorite beaches.  I believe it was after school one day.  There was another mother there with two boys.  They were older.  Perhaps this was the same day they were throwing rocks at the seagulls.  That is a whole another story.  Johnathon. . . .

Meanwhile, I was on the beach, on a towel.  Jayme was in the water, as were the other boys.  Their mom was on a blanket, as well.  Frightened by the prescence of horsesoe crabs, the two boys came rushing up the beach from out of the water.  They were carring on, making such a fuss that the lifeguards instructed everyone to get out of the water.

The boys claimed that the crabs were fighting.

I assured the lifeguards that my son knew what he was doing.  We had been to numerous nature programs and petting zoos. I knew Jayme was directing them to safety.   He was walking calmly and using an open palm causing water current.  He was coaxing the creatures toward the deeper water.

A very young boy he was, perhaps just seven years young at the time.  We had moved to the north shore of long island when he was in the second grade.  He came up the beach from out of the water and gave the report.

"They're mating."

JJ

The boy was really looking at me . . . like really looking at me.  Even when I wasn't talking . . . As if he was in contemplation of me.  It was as if he knew that I was someone he ought to know well.  As if I was someone important. 

He took extended looks at each of the several faces around the table.  Perhaps it was all so new to him, the many and unfamiliar faces.  He was taking it all in.  He will process it all later.  When he goes to sleep.  He will dream.  That’s what babies do.

Jayme and Michelle were pretty sensitive to his pensiveness.  He was still a bit teary eyed.  Apparently he’d been crying before Pop Pop and I had gotten there.

Safe in his daddy’s arms, he sat beside me.  Throughout dinner, he had a firm grasp on one of my fingers.  I hadn’t quite finished when hastily, I just had to drop my fork off to the side of my plate so I could cup my free hand around the tiny hand that was clutching my finger.

Oh how I felt the fingers of that tiny fist that was wrapped around my right index finger.  Ever so gently, yet with great passion, I tried to telepathically absorb every sensation.  I could feel the bends of the tiny phalanges.  Working the palmar of my fingers, I committed the sensations to memory.

After dinner, I sat next to my Jayme on the couch.  I took JJ from him . .  . Yet only five months old, the child likes to stand . . He just didn't want to sit, he insisted on standing.  His feet pressed firmly into my upper quads. Although I was supporting him, every now and again, it seemed his knees gave way.  I'd have to lift the solid body.  Like a kneading cat, he worked his feet into my thighs, as to readjust himself.  After I got home that evening, I could still feel those little feet pressing into my quads !!!  Perhaps the vastus mediales and or the satorius had atrophied, they were sore !!!  Lol.  

Once again, he'd push himself erect, stand tall and gaze purposefully. I recall him looking toward the dining room.  He seemed to rather enjoy the activity I felt so incredibly privileged to have such an endearing experience with this young child. Thus, I took him over to Michelle's grandpa.  He had only observed the boy from afar.  Earlier that evening he noted the boy's mellow disposition during dinner.  I just had to give him the opportunity to feel the same unique sensation on his legs.  I supported the child as he naturally stretched his legs out to stand.  I positioned the child so that his feet would press into Pop Pops lap as they had done to mine.

As if it were part of a plan, Michelle's dad captured a photo of the child with his great grand father !!!

Priceless !!!!

😀