It's August 15, 2015. Mother's Day in Costa Rica.
Today I slept in a bit, fed the beasts and made coffee. The boys wanted to prepare a surprise for Mother's Day, so I ran around the block, to give them some space to scheme. I returned to homemade, loverley cards, and the boys' promise to oblige my day's requests. First wish: to swim to the beach dock, and lie around like a seal. Off to the beach we go, where Nate read, and Max and I swam out in super low tide. We slopped on the dock, and watched the fish swim and the sailboats capsize during their lessons. We cheered on a black lab, whom I named Elly, as she swam steadily back and forth from the shore to the dock. There was an oddball fella cleaning the dock's ropes and underside. Max and I lounged on the dock and would wave or say "Hola," whenever the guy popped up, but he never responded. Dude just looked at us and quietly sank down again; evoking nervous laughter from me and Max.
Pruned and hungry, we called it a day and went home to clean up for the Mother's Day Festival (wish #2: attend local Mother's Day party). We hopped in the blue van (this time with snacks and iPods), and drove up to the Lorena pipeline. I thought we were heading into town to celebrate, but the festival was at the farm. We were the first to arrive.
So something to say: lost with manners and the automatic respectful response to everyone and anyone, is the ability for children today to make some play of nothing. This is innate. So what the hell is going on? What is this default boredom, or lethargy that I see in my kids when they are slightly off? Lost, my ass, because I KNOW the beasts know how to play, but the absence of humility in behaving like entitled princes, is too horrific for me to accept. Today the boys were bored, were hot, were impolite and they were the only children with these issues.
Wanting to be invisible, I took pictures again. I'm a bad hider, always have been, so eventually I was "mucho gracias"-ing and "los siento"-ing with these super wonderful people. The hiding part always makes me question my ability to document. I've got a serious sensitivity thing which makes me worry about ruining the moment of life with my clicking. I do feel the addictive draw, described by photojournalists, to quickly grab what I see, beautifully...but I am not impervious to the emotion in the air.
Anyway, were I a pro, I would have award winning shots to prance around, because today was pretty amazing. Lorena's families came out to celebrate its mothers. We all gathered at the drill site and listened to a three piece band (guitar, cheese grater and hollow block) who sang favorite town and party songs. There was a mini-speech (maybe about mothers), applause and then the food was served. From a five gallon Poland Springs bubbler jug, juice was poured into small cups and handed to everyone. This was no small feat, and important to emphasize, that EVERY person was handed a plate and cup; again like a family reunion. The trunk of a greenish sedan was opened to unleash a huge tub of food, prepared for the group (picture the ice bucket under a keg; that's the size of the food bucket). Rice, chicken, tomatoes, chives and a piece of white bread were portioned, and passed around like birthday cake. Delicious, truly. The kids played frisbee, and ate marshmallows, the babies danced to the music, everyone laughed and sang (except for Max and Nate). It rained on and off, and the singing never stopped, and the food and drink were enjoyed with the company. When the last of the rice was eaten and the final drops of juice drunk, the party was over, packed up and the bikes and cars sputtered away.
Here's what happened next. As we sat in the van to leave, James took a sad phone call. It was clear that he was confused and offered no reasonable explanation or details, but was told that Joe, his giant, goofy, lovable dog, was dead. I listened and understood most of the conversation, but Ernesto confirmed by saying quietly in English, "Joe is dead."
I still do not know the full story, but Joe was not old, sick, not injured. The boys'-my boys, my beasts- reaction was "can I have my iPod now?" Such news is so, so bizarre and wrinkles the head, right? I paid attention to my head's waves of
Is something wrong?
Something is wrong.
Something terrible happened.
Joe the dog was choked by his collar, I think.
And then
the waves from withIN the car rushed in and drowned any slow to process thinking going on in my own head. Marie-Cecile and James! Poor Ernesto! Too mysterious and tragic was this news, leaving all of us unable to say or do the right thing. There was some silence and the sky grew dark, as we all thought and soaked and thought and soaked and thought.
Nate asked Ernesto if he'd like to play with his iPod, and the three boys played in the back, while Marie and James quietly spoke to each other. I sat in the middle row, and watched and listened and thought and soaked.
James pulled up to the gate, and Bali and Tasha (the two German Shepherd girls) came running out to the car. I felt just .. dark, I guess, sort of like a shadow. Such a strange day. I offered to take Ernesto to the apartment if they needed to sort the situation, but Marie just smiled and thanked me. The families hugged and "Gracias"ed and somberly retired. Once inside, I delivered this talk:
We all feel. Everyone feels differently; filtering through his own Rube Goldberg set up of emotions, at his own speed, but we all feel the vibes and willies from the outside and inside. When us peoples are all together, (in a big pool or city or party, feeling our own personal stuff), we enter into an unspoken contract: to agree to be good. Otherwise, if everyone wore their egos on their bib, society would be chaos. This is why we are polite, kind, ethical and aware when with our fellow humans. Please and thank you always, help a neighbor always, do your part and be good, because it's part of the deal. Respect. Because we are all important. Respect because you are a part of something, now that you are growing up.
What happened tonight was so crazy and really, really hard to figure out. No one knows what to do with a surprise of sadness. But when you start from a place of goodness, of kindness, of politeness and respectfulness, you leave room to bounce up to happy or down to sad without overextending your rubberband head. Today you boys were sulky and all-consumed with your own doldrums thoughts. You watched nothing, you added nothing, you learned nothing and remained stuck in a low place. When we heard the news about Joe, you were already so self involved and moody that the only reaction was "I'm bored." I don't think that's what you wanted to feel, and I know you certainly didn't feel that way as the news sunk in, but because you were in a pit, you really had no way to react from a level headed, good playing field. Good is clear headed, and is a place of advantageous view and understanding. Good can see happy and sad more clearly than any other state of mind. And good can react, and help and be a friend.
I know you are good, and I know tonight you helped Ernesto and felt just as much sadness as I did. These feelings will only get more complicated as you grow, but it's much easier if you start from a good place.
I have no idea if any of this got through. I know they are mad that I am writing this at all. I feel like this a lot; like a ghost. I am trying so hard to make sense, to help them become honorable members of society, to acknowledge their feelings and to realistically integrate them into the world- invisibly while easing the harder pains. I am trying to show them, to take them, to listen to them and to watch them. I am feeling all of their feelings and all of mine intensely, while watching them play out in a field of everyone else's real life feelings. I feel like I'm messing up all of the time. They erupt in the face of my efforts, leaving me to doubt. I am giving it all I have in this emotional black hole...and so basically, today, I feel like a mom. And believe it or not, just writing that sentence reassures me. Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers.
Soccer ball
Mother's Day cards