Living in Denver has proven to be much more expensive than living in Cody, so I got a job doing security at the zoo. Not the most glamorous job really - all I do is make sure people obey certain rules so that the animals don't get fucked up. Lots of standing around doing nothing, but it's nice to be working again and to be around people. And don't forget the animals, the animals are pretty great to be around. Every time I walk past a creature I think, Oh that's my favorite! I seem to say that about most of the zoo. Go figure.
I am experiencing some emotions that I never expected to surface as a result of working there, and I'm hoping they will go away because dammit, they're uncomfortable. Naturally there are a bajillion people with small kids who visit, and we were no different when Amanda and Brandon were little. I have many memories of walking that very zoo with my small children, and seeing all the little kids while I'm working provokes memories that make me miss those little years terribly.
It's the ache of those happier times, when the family was still intact and we had our dogs, and we had Dad. So fucking much has changed since then. It's been a rough ride. As I sit and watch all of the little kids who are possibly in their own stages of familial innocence, I constantly wonder how my own kids will look back on their childhoods. Will they have good memories in spite of all the shit? Will they wish it had all been different? Will they hold it against me?
Those little years go by so fast. SO. FAST. I know I was mentally present and accounted for during that time, but it's such a short blip in the scheme of things that no matter how much you pay attention, *POOF*, it's done and all of a sudden they are teenagers. Amanda, who is now thirteen, is in full-blown teenager mode. There is just nothing child-like about her anymore and that kind of bums me out. I'm not ready for her to grow up.
Brandon is still my little guy, and I am desperately trying to hold onto his boy-ness as much as I can, for as long as I can. He's little and scrawny and very much still a little kid, and I'm not sure I'll be able to handle when his voice drops and his slight frame grows into a man. Once he's grown, that's all she wrote. Little kid game over.
Is it too early to be excited for grandkids?
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Monday, February 10, 2014
The picture was taken for a reason -it was a Father's Day gift for their dad (Amanda's idea I believe). Maybe that's why they were so happy...they were excited to give it to him and worked very hard to make sure he received it in time, which thankfully he did.
Faces of happy children, excited for their dad to see them in their goofy get-ups. Faces that couldn't wait to Skype him and see his reaction. Faces that had no idea that within less than a month, on a hot sweaty 4th of July, we would have the picture back in our hands as we packed up their dad's belongings in a Denver sober home where he took his final breath of life.
Seeing the picture felt so odd, as if the happy emotions of it's existence still swirled around the smiling faces in a palpable energy. We had JUST sent it to him. The ink was barely dry. It wasn't right to be taking it back, it was Dad's, it was for Father's Day, WE JUST FUCKING GAVE IT TO HIM!!
I have the picture sitting on my nightstand. I love it so much that I nearly burst into tears whenever I look at it. Those smiles. That excitement. But with it comes pain and dark, ugly dread. It's as if I know something those smiles don't, and I want to run up to them and fold them into my heart and soften the blow that is lurking on the corner of innocence and bliss. It's almost as if life conspired to document a beautiful moment in time, just to turn right back around and yank the rug from beneath our feet. I alternate between thanking life for the captured beauty, and telling life to go fuck itself. An unnerving dichotomy if there ever was one.
So tonight when I reach to turn out my lamp and catch a glimpse of those beautiful smiles, I'll do my best to be more thankful for what life has given to us and to try harder to not ask it to go fuck itself. Easier said than done...
Monday, February 3, 2014
This little guy is named Charlie. We saw him at the lost and found section of a local shelter and Amanda nearly shit herself she loved him so much. After five days and no one to claim him, we got to adopt him and call him our own.
Personally I'm not a fan of poodles (or the ridiculous hairdos they are subject to), but this little 4.5 pound cutie is absolutely adorable. Assumed to be around four years old, he is incredibly mild-mannered, walks great on a leash, and is just SWEET. He is the perfect combination of our two dogs who we had to let go of, and he has brought a spark into our home that has been desperately needed.
Welcome to our family Charlie, we've been waiting a long time for you!