Recognizing my shadow

Driving to Roo’s for our last games of the season I was resolute and committed to winning.  If I could win both games, I would have my name on that damn trophy!  I was very aware that I was up against three others who were just as committed for their own reasons.

For me, a win might mean that when Roo is asking questions about Poker and what you should and shouldn’t do, she might say “Deb” instead of “Ky”.  Ok, that probably wouldn’t happen.  Michael would be so happy for me.  Ky would be proud knowing she taught me and accepted my “Gus Hanson” style even though it drove her crazy.  Before my day dream ended, Ky was pulling into our parking spot next to Michael’s Ford Focus and I snapped out of it and gathered up the fixings for Caesars that we had brought along. 

I limped down those f’ing basement stairs that are too steep and hurt my poor knees every time, reminding me I need to lose weight and be more active.  Opening the door and stepping into the poker den the pain evaporates and I’m scooped up into Michaels arms.  Hugs from Michael are sweet, sincere and safe.  He seems to have no expectations attached to his loving and I really feel his appreciation, every single time.  Michael is precious.  His eyes light up when Ky offers Caesars.

Hugs from Roo follow, and I know she too accepts me and is glad we’ve arrived.  She turns down the Caesar and sends Kylie off to bring her a beer.  I get the feeling it might not be the first time Kylie’s run after her beer lol.  Ky busies herself behind the bar and I can’t wait to offer Roo the Fabletics outfit we brought her.  I did wrestle with dropping it off anonymously and leaving it at the backdoor.  But then I thought, no because I hate it when that happens to me, and I didn’t want Pete to be worried she has a stalker.  Plus, I love the look people get when you offer them a surprise “just because” gift and they feel special and thought of and special.  

Like when I come to bed after Ky and she’s all snug and comfy and I pull back the covers at the foot of the bed and climb up with my special spa purchased cream.  Without fail she says, “Oh my god!  You’re going to rub my feet??  You don’t have to.”  LOL.  Then she relaxes back on her pillow and her face has that “I feel special and loved” look.

Pete came down to say hello.  He is another member of the Rooyakkers family we love.  I wish he played poker because his sarcasm and presence at the table would be great; maybe.  He might be too tender-hearted for the game though – come to think about it, I don’t see him being ruthless with Roo or Michael.  I wish there was something I could do to take Pete’s pain away.  Watching someone you love suffer – even from a distance – sucks.

Seats are drawn then and we’re sipping our drinks and anxiously waiting for our first hands.  The tension is palpable and we all know our opponents are worthy and focused.  We say “good luck” but I think we all have our fingers crossed.

The moment for me in the first game that has stayed with me three days later, is when I called Ky’s raise before the flop, saw I had flopped a straight, raised and Ky pushed all in.  “Thank you Jesus!” I thought and said “call” turning over my cards to show her the bad news.  Undeterred, she showed trips and stated, “I need the board to pair”.  Bam – the board paired, and I was taken out by a full house.

Now I’ve been on the other end of this situation many many many times and so I couldn’t complain about her good luck.  However, my hopes were now dashed and game two would have no impact on my status for the season.  I was pissed.  Not at Ky, but at the situation.  It’s such a roller coaster of emotion.  I called a raise with 10 / J and I flopped the straight.  It doesn’t get any better!  And then, she pushes all in!!  Ky never pushes all in without the nuts! I had her!!  Elation – followed by shock and disappointment. I love/hate Poker!  Then I was the dealer.  

Roo went on to win that game and Ky was in great position to take it all in the second game, if Roo went out before her or if she went out first and Roo went out second; they would tie at 130 points each.  Neither of them seemed interested in a tie though and the second game began with that increased tension; if that’s even possible.  Michael and I were inconsequential. 

The game unfolded.  It’s was past midnight and I was down to less than 2,000 in chips.  To give that perspective, the blinds were 8,000 and 4,000.  I was all in against Ky in the big blind.  I had J something (lol I cannot remember my second card!!)  Ky and Q / 8.  When all the cards were revealed I had a straight and doubled up.   Michael gathered up the cards, pushed the chips my way, and that’s when Ky revealed she also had a straight.  But the cards were gone.  Michael and I both thought I was the only one with a straight.  Fuck.  A dispute.

I pushed my chips toward Ky and said, “Just take them.”  I was almost out any way and my pride wouldn’t permit to take a pot if anyone thought I didn’t win it fair and square.  “I will not!” said Ky.  Michael put his head down, fighting back tears.  There is no worse feeling than making a mistake as the dealer, unless its someone thinking you made a mistake, you believing you didn’t, and being unable to prove anything.

“It’s fine.  It doesn’t matter.” Said Ky, “It’s 2,000 chips!” “Just deal.”

I pulled in the chips and proceeded to then double up; multiple times.  Unfortunately, in the process I also took Ky out; first.   I did not want to be the spoiler.  I wanted to battle to be between Roo and Ky as it rightfully should have been, but I couldn’t do anything wrong at that point, and the cards just fell in my favor.

Now for Ky to have a chance for the tie, Roo would need to go out next.  But she was the big stack and folding her way to the Season’s title.  Michael was next out which solidified Roo’s victory and name on the trophy!

I won the game and lost the season.

Driving home I contemplated how things had unfolded.  Even though after the first game I had no chance at winning the season, I played my heart out.  I came back from 2,000 chips, against stacks of 30 to 50 K.  I bluffed, I got lucky, I was strategic.  I was ruthless in a way I never am in life.  That’s the thing about poker; it pulls you in and if you are fully present in the game it doesn’t matter who your opponent is – you are playing full out, out maneuvering everyone else, winning every hand, focused on pulling in every single chip on the table, until the very last hand. 

When I am playing my best, I don’t recognize anyone at the table, other than as an opponent.  When I am playing my best at life – I only recognize everyone else. 

I like the adrenalin of being ruthless.  I think poker facilitates my shadow, and in this case, I’m ok seeing it.

It's my birthday....

Today is my 58^th birthday and I’ve been laid up with some sort of chest infection for a few days.  I have even been missing work which is not a common occurrence; 3 sick days last year.  Since I slept half the day, I am ushering in my birthday at 12:03 a.m. by writing down my thoughts.  It seems like just the perfect way to start my next year.  I love writing and some people seem to love reading what I write and so, I’ve had the thought to do more of it this year.

Earlier tonight I took down the unused Words of Wisdom coloring book from our bookshelf.  I’ve decided to spend some time coloring.  The first page in the book is the one you see here.  This picture is significant to me.  As I began coloring the page I settled into a rhythm that was peaceful and right.  

When I was growing up things were difficult for my family. Even as I have that thought now, a lump forms in my throat and my eyes sting.  “Difficult”.  I guess that works.   I don’t have an abundance of memories and the ones that I can pull forward are usually “difficult”.  I realize now that I didn’t feel proud of my family.  I didn’t feel proud of my mom and dad, or our home, or our life, or myself.  This stands out now as I color the poppy and have a flashback.

In Brucefield our home had a front flowerbed that stretched the length of the house.  It had various plants in it but the bush I remember, and what impressed me, was the poppy bush.  It was huge and the flowers incredible in my memory.  I remember the stems and leaves being quite furry and a little prickly and when I colored my picture I thought the artist did such a great job of capturing the flower overall. 

I remember the flowerbed as my mom’s.  I can picture her now working in the beds, pulling weeds, trimming back the flowers.  Even though she had worked a full day at the nursing home, she didn’t seem to mind being on her hands and knees in the dirt.  She seems content.  I guess now I can see that she took pride in her flowers.  I was too unaware to see that at the time and my views were colored by my own shame.

What I do remember is our Collie, Ginger, choosing to hide her shame under the poppies.  It was a humid July and Ginger’s coat was long and very thick.  I’m not sure if it was Grandpa McCowan, but I think it was, who took the clippers to Ginger to give her relief from the heat.  But the thing is, he wasn’t good with the clippers.  He could get the job done, but it really was a mess.  Ginger hid in the flowerbed, behind the Poppy bush for a solid three days, refusing to come out.  Mom was clear it was because Ginger was ashamed of the trim job.  I accepted that completely at the time.  I guess, having lived with our Cocker Jack for 13 years and seeing his human-like qualities, I believe it still now.

I love that this memory comes up for me on my birthday.  I have carried shame for 58 years.  Thankfully years of therapy and personal work have eased the burden I carry, but, the memory tonight has highlighted the need for me to stay committed to my unburdening!  The synchronicity of this evening is so exciting for me!  Let me explain.

 I wrote myself a letter for my birthday earlier tonight – before I engaged in the coloring.  The letter was all the things I love about Deborah.  It came easily enough and I’m looking forward to reading it tomorrow morning when I wake up.  I said to Ky, one of the benefits of the short- term memory loss of menopause, is that I very likely will be surprised when I’m reading it in the morning 😉

Back to the synchronicity tonight – immediately that I wrote myself the letter, extolling my virtues, I colored the poppy and remembered my shame.  I even ran the visual of Ginger cowering behind the poppies.  That’s how I often felt as a child.  Trimmed miserably.  Ashamed.  Not good enough.  Unacceptable.    A cur.  To be clear, I don’t blame my parents.  This was my response to the situation I was born into.  This was my response.  Each of my siblings have their own experience, and I respect and accept that we are all unique.

So, the idea of “BE THE BRIGHTEST OF THE BUNCH” never really landed for me as a kid.  The crazy thing is, even at 58 I believe there is time to make this so.  When I wrote my letter tonight it felt right.  I wasn’t ashamed, and I feel proud of the woman I am.

It seems appropriate to close with my birthday message to Deborah.

January 16, 2018

Happy 58^th Birthday Deborah!

This year I want to tell you all the things I love about you. 

I love that you are generally patient and kind.  When you don’t feel that way, you usually bite your tongue until you do.  I love that about you.

I love that you care so deeply about others and often put their needs before your own.  You do this because you sincerely want to ~ its genuine.

I love that you forgive easily.  You can do that because you quickly question your thoughts when you feel hurt, disappointed or angry.  And when you question your thoughts about the feelings – its most often your own mistakes or wounds you discover – thereby releasing others any responsibility for your well being.  I really love that too.

I love that you commit totally your loyalty and invest completely in your closest relationships.  Ky, your children, their spouses, your grandchildren, are a priority to you and you spare no effort in demonstrating your love to them.

I love your sense of humour and your quick wit.  You make me laugh inside so often and that just feels so good!  I think this is one of your best qualities too.

I love that you are not afraid of hard work and you put your best forward most times.

I love that you keep learning and seeking.  You want to improve and do better.  You aren’t satisfied with the status quo.  That’s a good quality I think.

I love that you see your failings – you give credit where credit is due – like with your mom; you give credit to your siblings for doing what you’ve not been able to do.  In that regard, I also love that you forgive yourself for that failing.

I love that you are not shy to express your love of Ky to her or your acquaintances, as well as demonstrate to her in active ways how important she is to you.   I love that you put her first, by choice.  I love that you show the kids how to be in a loving relationship.  Even at 58, physical pleasure and expression of love is important to you and I love that!  Make sure you keep that ongoing 😉.

Finally, I love that you truly care about people, you really want to help people be their best and you can see it in them when sometimes they don’t see it themselves.   I love that about you and I hope this letter helps remind you to do the same for yourself.

Happy 58 ~ this will be a great year.  I just know it.

Love Deborah

Love as a verb….

Ky and I are downsizing and moving.  Of course, downsizing means letting “things” go, and we’ve been doing a lot of that the past month since our house sold.

Bill’s table is one of the “things” we can’t take with us.  We had moments where we considered using it for our dining room table with the top flipped, and then turning it over once a week for poker.  Those moments faded though when we took a second look at our apartment – definitely no spot for our sprawling table.

The thing about a poker table and eight chairs is that the market is not large and the price is not small.  So, we settled into the approach that has worked for us in the past; take no action and wait for a miracle.  We started packing, using the table as a spot to sort things.

When Pete texted us that he wanted to surprise Roo and buy her Bill’s table we were both relieved and anxious.  What if Roo didn’t want it?  We knew she loved the game, the league, the comradery; but would she want the table?  Pete did not seem plagued by any of those questions; he was sure.  He reminded us multiple times that this was a surprise and to please keep it on the down low. 

The next text asked us to reach out to our poker buddies and see if they could come for a game on the night he intended to surprise her with the gift.  It was all coming together.  The experience of witnessing Pete “love” Roo in this active way was touching.  We pushed aside our moments of anxiety about whether she would be happy, or annoyed.

The final text came last week; advising us that he would come Thursday morning at 8:30 a.m. to pick up the gift.  Roo was working both Thursday and Friday; his plan was to set up the table and pray she didn’t go to the basement until we arrived Friday night at 7.  We’ve since found out Michael met him and helped carry everything to the truck.  When he arrived home however, he was on his own.  He brought the eight chairs in, the base, and then, hulk that he is, the table top.  Flipping the top to change from poker table to regular table takes two of us, that’s how heavy it is, and yet Pete carried it through the house and down the basement stairs by himself.  Yep – love is a verb.

He had prepped the space by installing a new light and relocating the entertainment centre.  It was perfect.  It was perfect for poker; a game Pete doesn’t play.  This was all about Roo; it’s not something they enjoy together.  Pete’s enjoyment comes from knowing Roo loves the game, the league, the comradery.

The night arrived and we made our way to Roo and Pete’s with the poker crew in tow.  As we knocked on the back door we could hear Pete chatting.  Upon entering the kitchen we saw Roo in the living room sitting on the floor.  Kylie had been working with her to sort Lego to take on her trip to Nicaragua.  Roo’s face was confused and as she climbed to her feet we could see she was limping.  “What happened?”, we inquired.  “Oh, I fell at work.” She dismissed our concern and wanted to know what was going on?  As we exchanged hugs we told her we were just out for a drive.  She was disoriented.

Pete took her by the arm and gently prodded her to follow him downstairs.  “Why?” she asked.  “Just come on.” He answered.  We all followed the two of them to the basement where Pete left Roo at the bottom of the stairs and made his way across the room.  Still confused and disoriented (more than usual), Roo flipped on the lights and looked across the room to Pete. 

She gasped, covered her face with her hands and began to weep.  A new fan/light was installed in her basement.  It was hanging above Bill’s table.  What the fuck??

Limping toward Pete she was overcome.  She leaned into him and his arms encircled her, steadying her, reassuring her; loving her.

Pete was right.  He was right that Roo loved the table.  He was right that she wanted the table.  He said nothing; he held her.  He was right – love is a verb.

Shuffle up and deal.

Sisters tape.....

Relaxing this morning, I rewind the tape of our holiday in England.  I am watching it muted so that I have only my own subtitles; born of my feelings on the trip.

Arriving at the airport in Norwich I was anxious for my first glimpse of Linda.  We grabbed our bags quickly and scanned the arrivals hall.  I’m not sure why, but when I spotted her I was taken by how vulnerable she looked.  We each embraced her as Alex arrived with the car.  Soon we three sisters collapsed with laughter as we attempted to buckle up in the back.

Laughter followed us throughout our time in England.  We laughed at ourselves, each other, and Gogglebox.  The TV provided a welcome and frequent break from the intensity of the emotional responses I was experiencing.  I found myself often revisiting the feeling of Linda’s vulnerability throughout the eleven days.  Looking at the tape now, I recognize the longing for connection and even in the midst of our time together, the knowing that it was coming to an end and we were leaving her behind.

Watching us in the backyard, sipping tea in the sun, I remember the feelings of peace and gratitude I had.  Linda’s visit with me last summer was so critical to this trip.  The connection with her then, allowed me to relax into our communion.  I was aware of our aging and the gift of our time together.  I appreciated the beauty of the garden and the birds.  I loved sharing the experience with Ky.  I was thankful that Linda and Alex were relaxed with us.

Linda developed a chest infection during our visit and I wonder now if that’s where my awareness of her vulnerability was rooted.  Ky commented frequently on our genetic similarities; such as not giving into feeling unwell.  In spite of the infection Linda went about hosting.  She tidied, washed, cooked, and “organized” like nobody’s business! 

My tape has now shifted to Carol.  I try to imagine her feelings, but I’m not able to land on anything specific.  I’m sure she was glad to be there and I know she too appreciate our hosts, but I’m not clear on her emotional state.  There were a couple of times when we were reminiscing about our childhood trauma and I had the sense Carol preferred not to engage.  I was surprised when she shared that mom and dad had taken her and Bev on a trip to Chicago.  This image is in such conflict to anything I remember. 

For my part, I felt defensive of Linda and angry that horrible things had happened to her.  I felt regret that I had no impact on her experience as a child; being 10 years her junior.  I felt helpless to have any impact in the moment now.  I found myself wondering what it must be like for Carol.  If she had a bond with dad and loved him, how would that impact her response vs. mine; I never bonded with him and I never loved him.  As I sit now with a still shot of that exchange at the table in Bickling Estate, I feel our tension as three sisters attempt to reconcile conflicting experiences.

I hit play again, and see Carol napping, reading, laughing, helping and soaking up all the sights and sounds of England.  I see her appreciating the history, the buildings, the people and Linda and Alex.  I remember her frequent comments that Glenn would love this or that; I had the sense she would have loved to share the experience with him.  I saw her face light up when one of her brood would text.  I feel her sense of fun playing cards and I smile now remembering Ky calling her Lenore when we thought she was scamming us.  As the tape rolls, her comments; do you know what and I cannot believe it are often visible on her lips.   I have a soft spot for Carol, and she tugs at my heart always.

As I watch us walk into the Norwich airport after saying good bye, I shed a tear.  I miss Linda.  I miss Carol too. 

I contemplate what I will do about that.

So interesting.....

Thanksgiving.  My menopause brain was compromised this year and I mixed up our babysitting commitments with turkey weekend.  I told everyone we were busy this year.  By the time I realized my mistake, Ky and were feeling thankful we had nothing to do!

A free long weekend.  I quickly committed to our weekly poker crew that we would play Monday night and as it turns out – they are all available.  Liz and Laura will come early for dinner.  Texted Roo and Michael about a tournament in Windsor Sunday night – they are in!  Chris texted and asked if we could watch Joey while he and Tash went shopping Saturday – perfect.  Nothing to do be damned ;)  .

Michael arrived at 3:10 sharp on Sunday afternoon and we headed to pick up Roo at the 401 and Col Talbot.  It was a quick two hour trip to the Casino and we filled the drive with stories about grandkids, the US election, and prep for our tournament.  Roo had her cheat sheets printed out and poured over them; pausing frequently to seek clarity from Ky.  I did my best to jump in with my advice – yet the questions continued to be prefaced by “Ky?”…wtf….lol.  I love our friendship with these two.

When we arrived Ky and Roo headed upstairs to the Poker Room, Michael went to get a Rewards Card which he needed to register for the tournament, and I cruised the casino floor.  I chose my seat, fed in $40, spun a few times and hit a bonus; $199.  Smiling broadly I made my way upstairs and by 6:15 we were in our seats waiting for the tournament to begin.

Michael was at table 73 while Roo, Ky and I drew for table 75.  With our $65 on the line we each took in the competition, assessing our table mates while we waited for our cards.  71 entrants.  Mostly men; maybe 7 or 8 women – four at our table.  A chatty guy between Roo and I commented that “usually I’m looking at ugly mugs around the table – this is different”.  I took in his comment, realizing he was being friendly and he didn’t seem to know how to engage with women without referring to appearance.  So interesting.

As the cards were being shuffled a women approaches our table with her chips and a paper in hand.    She smiles at the table demurely, “I’ve brought my paper with me.  Can I keep it on the table so I know what hands win?!” she giggled, sliding into the seat beside Ky.  My eyes meet Ky’s, and her’s widened slightly.  Great.  “I’m just here to have fun!” she continued.  She looked at Ky; “It’s a friendly game right?”  Ky shrugged, “Sure.”  “My husband’s right there” pointing at table 74.  “We were just down stairs and heard about this and thought – what they heck!  Let’s do it!”  I am feeling irritated.  I am aware Roo, Ky and the other serious woman at the table are not impressed either.  I’m observing the interactions and realizing, this is what is expected of women; – too much talking, a flip of hair, seeking approval, deferring to men, giggling…..superficial “noise”.  Not substance, not focus on the game, not serious competition.  So interesting.

I raise the pot and everyone folds except her.  She flips her chips in, “It’s just a friendly game right?”  She looks down the table at me.  “What the hey!” she giggles.  The flop comes and I bet again.  Another call.  I’ve got it, and I’m feeling confident.  She calls again.  I’m curious what she might have.  On the river I bet the pot.  “Hmmmmm” she muses, toying with her chips.  Finally she slides her cards into the muck, “Ok, you look pretty serious.  I guess I’ll fold.  You must have it.”  I muck my cards and scoop the chips.  “Gosh, you guys are so serious,” she continues.  “I thought it was just a friendly game.”  Not wanting to appear as aloof as I felt, I place my thumb on my nose and wave my fingers at her, smiling.  That elicited laughs all around and she also smiled, “That’s better!”.  Yep, it’s better that the women are acting silly.  So interesting.

Ky followed my lead then, leaning toward her table mate and advising, “See the size of that ring on her finger?  She’s always got it.”  Wink.  More laughs around the table.  Everyone sliding into their roles.  So interesting.

The games moves on.  Chips sliding to and fro.  Cards being mucked.

Ky raises and is called.  The flop comes, she raises again, seriously, a big bet.  The table quiets.  He calls quickly and Roo and I exchange glances.  What’s she got?  The turn, another big bet – now she only has about two thousand back and there must be twenty k in the pot.  He just calls.  The river.  Ky shoves her two k.  He pauses.  I’m shocked.  You only have to call 2 k buddy – what are you waiting for??  He folds.  Everyone is surprised.  The dealer shoves the chips towards Ky.  “Show your cards.” He says.  I’m confused.  She doesn’t have to show.  He folded.  Ky flips over her full house Q’s full of J’s.  She leans forward so that she’s looking square at the dealer.  “Why did you tell me to show my cards?”  He’s silent.  They guy beside Roo and I says, “He folded.  You didn’t have to show your cards.”  So helpful.  Ky levels her eyes in his direction.  “I know that.”  She turns her head back to the dealer.  “I want to know why you said show my cards.”  He shifts in his chair nervously.  “I was just curious.”  He offers lamely.  Ky stacks her chips, not taking her eyes off the dealer.  “I highly doubt you would have told a man to show his cards.”  “It’s over” one of the other guys mutters.  “There’s nothing he can do now.”  “He could apologize.” Is Ky’s measured response.  Silence all round.  So interesting.

Again the friendly guy quietly says to Roo and I, “she didn’t have to show” as if that made any difference.  I set my ante across the line and looked to my left, “Remember how you said there are often no women here?  That’s why.  He would never have told a man to show his cards.”  Then I turned toward the dealer, “It’s never too late to adjust though.”  He ignored me.  So interesting.

The man who was in the pot with Ky is taken out.  A new man comes to fill his spot.  I’m the big blind.  7,6 hearts.  The woman beside Ky puts in a small raise and I call.  It’s the two of us again.  The flop comes and I hit my six.  I bet.  She calls.  I check the turn and she does as well. The river comes and she shoves all in.  It’s only two K more – I’ve got seven k in the pot.  She looks nervous.  She’s not talking. Lol.  I call.  She turns over a 5 and I take my chips.  “The ring.” Ky says with a tilt of her head.  There are more glances around the table but no one laughs.  She called with a pair of sixes??  Women aren’t supposed to make tough calls.  My nemesis scurries off to tell her husband the bad news.  “Nice hand.” Says the friendly man to my left.  So interesting.

The fourth woman at our table has her Aces cracked and leaves.  Another man, a late entry, fills her seat and sets down his 7.5 k.  The cards are dealt.  I look down at A,Q.  My heart beats faster.  I’m the big blind.  There are a few callers, including the new guy.  When it comes to me I raise the pot.  Quick folds all round except for him.  The flop comes 8,8,K.  I bet; he calls.  The turn hits my A.  I check; he bets; I call.  The river is a brick.  I check.  He shoves all in and as people look away from the play expecting a fold, I clearly state, “I call.”  Attention quickly come back to the table.  He looks at me shocked.  This time when the new dealer says to him “show your cards, she called” it’s accurate.  He turns over nothing and I flip over my A, Q.  Roo quickly says, “Nice hand Deb.”  Ky nods her approval, and as he leaves she deadpans to the table, “Guess he didn’t notice her ring.”  Laughter all round.  Couple more guys say, “Nice call.”  It’s break time.

After the break Roo is eliminated as she pushes her short stack.  (Good play – just didn’t work this time.)  She approaches Ky to collect a book from her backpack and heads to the café to read.  It’s about 10 pm I think.  Shortly after that, I make a bad call, then try to get creative with pocket 6’s and before you know it I’m out.  Ky and Michael continue on.

I head back to the casino and slide $20 into a new machine.  The first spin hits a bonus - $395 the lady beside me smiles and advises me to take the win and not give it all back.  I smile as well.  I text Ky the good news and print the ticket.

Around 11:00 Ky texts that she’s out.  Her K’s were cracked by A,Q.  There are about 18 people left – including Michael.  We meet in the café and commiserate about Ky’s last few hands.  Roo will continue with her book, Ky and I head back to the slots.  I give Ky the ticket for $395 to take home, and play with the $199.

Michael also goes out with K’s!  He made the final table – so proud!!  Unfortunately, it’s the top 8 who get paid and so his reward is only the knowledge of how well he played to pass 61 other players and finish in the top 10.

Roo treats us to a midnight dinner at Legends where we celebrate the Jays victory and Michael’s poker prowess. 

We pull away from Caesars at 12:53 a.m.  The drive home is quiet as Roo sleeps and Michael catches up on his phone.  I too nod off as Ky navigates the pylons and construction on the 401.  By the time we crawl into bed it’s after 3 and sleep descends quickly.

Today, I’m left with my thoughts about our societal norms and my place as a soon to be crone.  I continue to be amazed at the things I’ve not noticed before now.   That leaves me with much patience for others as I continue to learn.  That’s this morning ~ in reflection.  Last night, I must confess I had moments of impatience at the table.  So interesting.

Linda

I remember her as the oldest.  She was serious and a little untouchable for me.  She had long black hair.  I remember the hair because she would lay it over the ironing board and “press” it sometimes before she went out.  Shiny, straight, flowing, black hair.  I thought she was beautiful.  At one time we shared a room and she decorated it with creative talent – the beautiful flowered material she made the drapes with, she then cropped and attached to the front of the dresser drawers.  I was very impressed! 

I knew she was courageous, even though I was quite young.  I had proof.  One day, when dad was in the washroom she crept outside with a pail of water.  Positioning herself exactly right, she swept her arms back, and then forward.  The water hurled from the pail perfectly toward the window and made a strange noise as in flew through the screen.  The next sound was a startled scream from the man we all feared.  She had actually thrown a pail of water on our dad!  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  It wasn’t long after I saw her sprinting across the lawn and toward town.  She was courageous and certainly not stupid enough to hang around for the aftermath!

I think I was almost 8 when she got married and left.  Of course I saw her after that when they came to visit – with their precious new baby boy, then his oh so expressive sister.  I remember Linda as an attentive, conscientious mother.  Huey and Angie were always dressed in lovely outfits and they played together as best friends.  I don’t actually remember seeing them one without the other!

Sisters.  The word conjures up so many visuals, expectations; fantasies.   My reality was separateness, longing, and childhood memories fraught, disjointed; filled with the chaos that was our life then.

This week though, much of that was transformed. 

Linda had arrived in Ontario July 4 for a four week holiday.  Mostly, understandably, she would spend time with her children and grandkids in Brantford.  I had not expected to see her much beyond our family picnic at our brother, Danny’s place.  That was a lovely time.  Her son and daughter came with her grandkids – it was great to see everyone.  It was “family time” with lots of laughter and good food.  The following week, Ky and I drove to Carol’s one night to connect and I was satisfied.  We’d had our usual, polite visit and I wasn’t expecting more.  

Then, Linda made a choice to come to our home for a few days.  Ky was scheduled to be up North for the week and so it was just Linda and I.  I was glad she was here, but at the same time I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  We’d never actually spent much time alone together as adults.  What would we talk about?  What did we have in common?

Our time was casual, somewhat cautious initially.  As the days unfolded we talked more, sat longer and relaxed.  I saw myself in her.  “Debbie, would you like your feet rubbed?” she offered.  I quickly responded “no thanks” without thinking about it.  It was something I would offer. 

She spent time ironing our laundry and although she stated how much she loved ironing, I experienced it as an expression of her love as well.  There was something intimate and innately kind about her picking up our things and smoothing them out with her hand before sliding the hot iron over them.  Then, deliberately, things were folded carefully and set in a neat pile. 

I felt her vulnerability.  I listened as she shared her thoughts, reflections, feelings and fears.  I saw myself in her.  I talked about myself in response to her questions and she listened.  Many times she mused, “I never knew that.”

We drove through Brucefield and looked at our old house.  We bought an ice cream at the Farmers’ Dell.  “I worked here too you know …….. for two days!” she offered between licks of her cone and with raised eye brows for expression.  I saw myself in her.  Watching her, I was aware of a tug in my heart.  Perhaps she was not untouchable for me.  Maybe we could connect.

We talked more.  She made me dinner.  I made her dinner.  We shared more.  We hugged. 

I saw myself in her.  I had compassion.  I felt her appreciation.  I admired her.  I felt loved.  My heart expanded and I saw her.  I loved her.

The day before Ky returned and Linda would leave I was able to tell her what was happening for me.  I was falling in love.  Not unlike my experience when Raymond was born; I was so surprised by the depth of my caring and the unconditional nature of the bond.

Our love was always there I think, a seed of potential buried in the dark soil of our childhood….sprouting now, fresh, new and eager.  

Joey's Daddy

May 13, 2016

Texts

10:48 a.m. - “4 cm dilated.  Things progressing.  Tash just said she can do it and has been so positive since contractions started.  Every contraction has a purpose.  Midwife says everything going great.”  

4:58 pm “8 cm. active.” 

5:08 pm “Hard to watch her in pain.  Getting a little emotional.  Trying to keep in together for her.”

5:13 pm “By a little, I mean a lot…..but we can do it.”

8:02 pm “I don’t know how she’s doing it.  Very brave and committed.” 

11:19 pm “Joey is here”  

12:56 pm “He’s perfect”

May 14

1:01 am – “Pretty amazing.  Tash is one strong woman.  Can’t believe what she just did.  We’re just getting ready to weigh him.”

1:59 am – “7 lbs 21 in.  Just a little guy.”

2:13 am – “I will call in the a.m.  Love u”

When I started this post I had intended to add commentary – but it’s perfect as is.