Heather, Tyler, and John

 

There is not much normalcy in my relationship with the Hansons. I can tell you my daughter Heather was conceived on Christmas Eve, with love, while her half brothers slept on piles of blankets on my living room floor. I had hung a string of colorful lights along the bedroom window. I felt something special had happened in our sanctuary. Not everything was about saving the boys from the raging Delpiano.

An hour ago I recalled the time the three of us would go to the rec center and swim that one summer we were so brave. Tyler had just turned three. There was a fish tank and a pan of turtles. Sometimes we played table tennis. Mostly, we swam, and lay by the pool. Again, not everything was, right. Everything, was wrong. I hate to use those words.

Ryan was susposed to be in the mix. Tyler was susposed to studying his parents, and, then me if I was around. But, we were it. This was our lifeboat full, our DNA, pool time. As an artist, and cosmic personality, I understand the eye takes in molecular information, much of it subconsciously. We need to identify that corner of the eye, and compare it with a corner of the mouth. Eye color, matters. Yes, I belong. These are my people. And, we are doing normal and sane things – as a family. These were the best of times. I felt so fortunate. I couldn’t believe I had offspring. Somehow I puttled it off – The Big Scam! And, here we are. And, here I am.

What a great mother my daughter made. I was so impressed. I was in awe.

I could barely make my way down to Sonoma on the train. I was, and am so poor. As the sun began to set as we climbed the mountain range, I knew I was doing something very important. Life, when it is not a fraud, insists on these important guarantees. Just get out of your writing shell. Just get on the train. Just get there. Just be there. And, come back.

Jon

to be continued

 

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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