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.
to be continued