So I'm sitting at the kitchen table listening to music blasting on the stereo. Little Lady is on the floor next to me, mangling my chapstick and pulling all the wipes out of the container. Little Man is locked in his room playing legos. They are both growing up so quickly. I'm looking at pictures of my Jameson on my computer and on Facebook. I love to look at the old ones on there and read the captions. It makes me remember. I'm looking at my boy over the years...the three years we had. They are like gold.
There are carrots roasting in the oven. Mushrooms sauteing on the stove. The wild rice burgers are leftovers from last night, but I'm hoping nobody will complain with the addition of mushrooms tonight. I'm drinking a beer. I gave up alcohol for Lent, so...
And I'm looking at old pictures. All the pictures of him are so old. We all looked so young. Little Man was such a baby still. And us, we were still so shiny and new. Now we have wrinkles and grey hairs and the wizened look that only comes from living through what we lived through. We've aged a lot.
It's raining outside and I'm so happy Hubs was able to take the car to work instead of riding his bike as he usually does. I'm wondering when he's going to come home and feeling lonely and missing Jameson and looking at old pictures. And I wonder what our lives would be like if we had three kids still. I've never had all three kids together. The boys would share a room and she would be the baby princess, which doesn't actually change much. We'd need another dresser. And a minivan. Minivan's kinda break my heart because I should need one. Isn't that ridiculous?
So I'm just sitting here and the kids are playing legos together. And the beer is good. And the carrots are starting to smell sweet and the mushrooms are on low. And even though his shift ended an hour ago, the Hubs is still working. Thats what happens when you marry amazing. He is amazing and I will never forget to feel lucky. And I'm missing him and I'm missing Jameson and I'm missing the shiny and new that we'll never have again now that this tarnish sits over everything. And I'm just looking at pictures and wondering if Little Lady will ever know what shiny and new is, since the tarnish came before she arrived.
I'm just looking at pictures. Old pictures of St. Patrick's Days that were all about wearing green and drinking beer and having fun with people we love and everything was shiny and happy. And Jameson was here and life was one big brunch and parade. But now there's this tarnish that just won't go away. And maybe I don't want it to.
The music is still loud and the kids are both playing in Little Man's room all independent and not needing their mama every five seconds and isn't this the best and the worst all rolled into one? And I'm sipping this great local Irish IPA from a can and the carrots are done and the mushrooms are still on low and the Hubs is still making sick people better and I'm just sitting here looking at old pictures. Jameson was so healthy and normal. What the hell happened?
Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day and I'm going to get up early and make Irish soda bread with golden raisins for breakfast. And then get all decked out for the day with green and orange and beads and pins and crazy socks and hats. I've laid out insane costumes for the kids and already asked the teacher if Little Man can wear a green mustache to school or not? And I've laid out Hubs options in Irish boxers and socks and t-shirts. I kinda hope he picks the "Fight Me I'm Irish" shirt. And I wonder if he can wear buttons or suspenders with his scrubs in the ICU. Probably not. He also won't be wearing his kelly green dress shirt, which we bought for Jameson's funeral. It'll be a fun day but our son is still dead.
Little Lady is done with legos. She's playing with the light switches and my beer is empty and I'm thinking about cracking open another one because I've already screwed up on Lent, what's one more? And Hubs is on his way home, which will make everything so much better. And I'm looking at old pictures while listening to my Rainbow Baby sing at the top of her lungs with the music still blasting and wondering if I'm living in the past because I'm still looking at old pictures and wishing we were still all shiny and new.
But Little Lady is still singing and I'm pretty sure I need to change her diaper and I look at her twirling and I know I'm not. Because as much as I want my past, I want my future too. And maybe my desires are more complicated than most people's are. Because I would give almost anything to have what I had. But I would never give up what I have now and how does that reconcile? The "if only" thoughts are a slippery slope.
And I'm listening to Bon Jovi singing about Living on a Prayer and there's this princess sitting on my lap who definitely needs her diaper changed and Hubs will be home any moment and the rain is still falling and now the Beatles are singling Let It Be. And I love this life. I just wish it were plus one instead of minus one.
Always minus one.