Tuesday 17 November 2009

I wish I was in heaven sitting down



The girls all washed and in their Sunday best. For the first time for Sunday church.

I had past the church in the center of town many times and thought little of it other than a good example of the stone architecture of the time. It always struck me as strange it had star of David in the middle of the left tower. The first time I passed it I thought it was amazing we had a Temple in town. I was assured it was the First Congregational Church when I asked where the knishes were at the Church bazaars and picnic the first year we were in town.

For the record they didn't know what a knish was. Nor any other Jewish food I asked for. At that point they thought Ian married a Jew. I just went along with it and tried to invite the pastor over for the Sador. He bowed out gracefully.

Ian and the girls were the only ones who got the joke. Though there were less girls back then.

Some years later I did tell his wife it was just a joke since no-one seemed to think an star of David was unusual for a church. She was shocked to hear it was a Jewish symbol. It must have been there so long no-one made the connection. Funny how it takes a stranger to notice something you see all the time.

People , passers by have always pointed out to me things I never noticed about myself in my youth. I yearn for those days again every now and again. It seems everyone I see now I have seen for years and there are no strangers around sent from some celestial place for wisdom to filter through.




Back to church. We, of course, got there 5 minutes late. Last time I did this , I was the kid. There is no better way to make an entrance in the local small town church than to arrive 5 minutes late with a bunch of load questioning girls, the kind of questions you don't want resonating through a silent Church. Questions like " what is church and why are we going?" "why do we have to be quite?" And my all time favorite from my oldest "shouldn't you still be asleep at this hour, mother?"

And me, tired and weary, and yes, usually at this time I am still sleep this time of day on a Sunday, instead of being embarrassed in front of most of the town and all of the town's gossips.


The preacher had stopped what he was saying as I was trying to slip into church with my noisy bunch. He waved us in. I took the road of pride and walked us to the middle of the church instead of the back of the church where I was hoping no-one would notice us. No chance of that now.






Fidget was the word in my family for the next hour. An hour of constant correction. The one thing going through my mind "why do women who have children put themselves through this?" why did my grand mother with all those kids do this? I do remember she didn't care after a while, when I ran away. When I left to catch frogs and learn from Moses. She didn't realize after a while I was going to church with Moses' family.

Oh no, the thought of genetics came to mind. These girls are all mine. How can they do anything but fidget. I braced myself to see if any would bolt out the door.

About that time the preacher preached about a sows ear and a silk purse all while looking at us. How flashbacks of my grandmother's church was coming to me. Filtering through my mind in between the hushed words to Solas and Freedom. The words of hatred and condemning those Jesus would have loved.

I really don't think Precious really meant this for me and the girls.

Then something strange happened.

Oh nothing like Mother Mary coming down to make my girls perfect angels, but something that threw me just the same.

Preacher talked about hidden talents. About other loves. About people not being what they seemed. That people had lives before they arrived. that people are different than what you believe them to be.

Then he came down to me and asked me to come up,

"take for example, Emma, here. " he said to the congregation " How many of you know she was a musician? or that she even record an album in Europe? Oh I am sure you were aware of her husband's musical career..."

I was so proud of my self for not interrupting him to point out that Ian was my EX husband, as in former and no longer.

"But Mrs McEwing here, is a musician in her own right, and they meet when he was he back up musician."

He stopped to let that all soak in.

"So I have asked Mrs McEwing up here to see if she would grace us with a song or two this morning as our Mrs. Benoit is unable to play for us due to an ailment. It must have been God himself who directed Mrs McEwing here today with her daughters to fill in." he smiled and brought me a guitar.

How can you say no when GOD HIMSELF brought you to church to fill in. Maybe in more ways than he knew.

I tuned the unfamiliar instrument. I wish I had my old steel one for this. But I make due. I tuned it to my satisfaction and sat down on the chair the preacher fetched for me. I sang two songs. Old ones. I avoided looking at the town's people before me trying to get my old mojo going. Just like the old days with Moses.







I must say, it felt great to sing in front of people again.

I noticed the town folk in front of me. They looked shocked. I don't think they were used of the blues or gospel. I wasn't sure what to make of them. Strange people, don't know what good music is.

The preacher smiled at me as he retrieved the guitar and the chair and put them aside.

"If I am not mistaken, Mrs McEwing, that was examples of the blues you learned growing up in the south."

I smiled back and said "Yes, I would often play in church in my youth." I really wanted to say "Will you stop calling me by Ian's name AND IT IS MS SMITH, the name change came with the divorce decree." But I didn't, I just smiled and looked meek as I walked back to my pew. My girls were smiling at me.

Damn, Ian must have told him a lot about me.

"Mama, you sing good" Mercy said in her little voice. That was all the justification I needed for the day that I still had it.

As we left the church the preacher asked us to come back, "Don't make yourselves strangers to God's house. " he said.

The jury was still out on that in my head. The ride back home was nearly uneventful. Mercy did ask who my husband was. It made me laugh. Freedom quickly said we don't talk about that. We really don't talk about that in our house. I realized she really had no clue who Ian was, how could she, she was only a few weeks old. And the next youngest, Chas, she barely could remember some vague man who was around and than not. His loss. I kept saying that in my head all the way home. It pushed out any feeling of the blues I had for them not having a father.



When we got home a woman was there. Blonde, thin, bright blue eyes with freckles. Much younger than me.

"Can I help you? Are you lost? " I said as I told the girls to stay in the car and I ventured toward her.

"Are you Dani?"

"That was a lifetime ago." I replied. Been decades since someone called me that.

"Where is your birth mark?"

"Under my makeup? Do you need to see it for some reason?" Now I was getting annoyed. She doesn't seem like some long lost fan. I could only think of the millions of ways this young woman has come to mess with my life.

"You don't remember me?" she said hopeful.

Now I was starting to worry for my children. "Sorry? Should I? " I said as nonthreatening as I could. " I have meet a lot of people over the years. Maybe a hint?" Though something about her reminded me of someone. I couldn't put my finger on it, but what ever it was made me very uneasy and worry for my children.

" It was a long time ago. I suspect you wouldn't. I was only a little girl." She looked to the ground "No easy way to say this."

"Well, easier if you just spit it out and let the chips fall sometimes, I find." I replied in a friendly voice, hoping she wasn't carrying a weapon.

"Mom's dead, sis."

Saturday 14 November 2009

I'll never let go of your hand



During the months after the awaking the gavel coming down brought me to the sleep of of a whole different kind, a waking dream of me sleepwalking. My mind not wanting to really accept He didn't love me. He never loved me. I was that easily replaced when too old. All those promises were lies. The children I created with him were nothing. Not made of love. Not sacred.

It would have been easier if I had some friends. I seemed to have isolated myself here on this hill, in the farmhouse so old and wooden, so many years ago. I brought my children to a place to be raised of frogs and chickens.

I forgot all but those fun things small farm towns had. The remembering everything else was the hardest part. In the beginning it didn't matter really that I wasn't accepted for the talented, creative, mysterious, loving, kind, curious, magical person I was. All they saw was the mark of my freakishness on my face and my rock star attitude. None of the rest. I tried. They just couldn't see beyond their own preconceptions of me. But unlike when I was a child, I had a man, we had a plan. We had a family. And they could go jump in the big ole lake that housed a town at the bottom of it.

That attitude didn't help when you are without a man. Now I am the freaky bitch who couldn't keep her man. Some of the older women in the shops gave me that look of pity as I try to wrestle my girls out of their stores without too much incidents. It is considered a success if it is under a half hour and nothing gets broken, with one girl going this way, Freedom holding another , another goes another way and Freedom bitching about the child she is holding.

I don't like going to the stores. Not that I have the money for it.

Money. That child support that was ordered came regular for the first few months, then, then... well we all know how this story goes. You get some here and there. when the mood strikes him or he feels guilty. Having children with no friends or family to watch them means mama don't work.

So small town in the boonies and not one outed gay man about for me to lay my pitiful head on his shoulders equals one sorrowful pitiful Emma.

Yup, I dropped the Butterfly crap for the locals, trying to fit in, you know.

Nowadays. I find myself making bathtub wine, in my spear time and finding the occasional extra change for Malibu to drown my sorrows in.




I yearn, in my time of my eyes closing tight, for arm around me, I can almost remember the feel of Ian's around me as we danced or as I made dinner when he came up from behid, not to mention the times in the bed, I have such a hard time thinking of it as making love any more.

In those times, I awake to believe it was all a bad dream and I forget he is not here. His side of the bed as cold as the day he left it. It comes rushing back as I begin my day.

Midsummer's night.

Oh how I miss England.

All the stories of magical Fae.

Where ecsentric is just a quirk of nature to make life more interesting.

Oh England. Where my only family lay.

I think.

Last time I talked to Kim he said he wished me luck and love. He said he wish he could over here and solve all my problems but... oh I hate that word, it is like it negates everything before. Not that I blame him. He said we both had families. He said we both had responsibilities and his keeps him in England. He now looks for talent like his step dad did. He has 3 children of his own. Though he did end with: " you are always welcome to come back home, the wife can help you with those beautiful girls of yours. And if I ever see Ian again, I will make good on my promise made on your wedding day. Luv ya sis, got to go."

I can't blame him and sometimes I think about selling off the farm and moving back home. But, we are both adults now and he shouldn't be having to take care of me all my life. He was my white knight once. He has a woman and children who needs his protection now.

We called every now and again. When I couldn't afford the phone bill so that put the end to that when the phone was shut off.

Midsummer's' night.

Warm and cloudless. Stars that went on for ever. The fireflies tries rival the stars for my attention. They hovered and swirled in their lover's dance.

Me and my wool blanket full of sunset colours. We bought it out west when we went to the Navajo reservation. I wanted to see if Suzie was still there. She wasn't. It is funny how you go to a far away place to find your past and realize that it vanished and all the players moved on. We stopped at a trading post found the blanket for our bed. The man behind the counter recognized my butterfly. Joseph. He sold trinkets to the tourist. He got grown up with a family. Funny he was still a boy in my head and I still a little girl in his.

The blanket I should have burnt it. I could not. More than Ian it reminded me of Joseph. I can't get rid of one of the memories with out the other going up in smoke too.

I have my old steel guitar and a bottle of Malibu.

The were girls asleep, I locked the doors and went to watch the moonless night under the old apple tree. The moss under it is soft and cushy.

I play old blues songs of lost love and heart ache. Most of them by men. I fell asleep when I could stand no more about how when are so wrong.



"Wake up , child!" I heard and it felt like someone kicked my butt.

"Girl! I said wake up your lazy good for nothing butt up!"

Damn all this yelling I rise from my sleepy drunkenness.

Damn I must be drunk. He sounds so familiar that deep old voice.

"Now don't you be treating that child like that, Moses, she's got the blues something bad." A soft voice said.

I got to my elbows and tried to focus on what was going on.

"Moses?" I said. Slowly figures seem to come to focus, illuminated by the fireflies and glowing against the night.

"Who do you think it is? Denzel Washington?"

"How do you know about Denzel?"

"Oh child, I am dead I am not uninformed! And especially not uninformed about your foolishness!" Moses said in that very scolding tone I heard only once or twice.

"Moses!"

"Oh Precious, you see this foolishness this child has gotten up to! Don't be Mosesing me."

"She has been going though a lot. But darling, it is enough now. Those babies need you! You are their mother and that Freedom of yours, she's having to grow up too quick. You are hurting that baby of yours."

I looked down. The bottle was empty. The words stung. "I just don't know what else to do."

"You be a MAMA! How hard is that! I taught you better than this, child. You are being as bad as that mother of yours and those grandparents who couldn't care less for you. " Moses word made me cry.

"Baby, tears wont help those girls, you SHOW them that you LOVE them. You pick yourself up, brush off your derriere and get back to raising those girls right! It wont hurt to take them to church, too. You got any good Baptist preachers up here? "

I started laughing at Precious words. "I think I am five steps beyond church. No Baptists here only judgemental white women wearing pink sweaters."

"Oh, child, We had those down south, too. White or coloured folk, those pink sweater ladies are more judgemental than any good Christan should be. BUT that never kept good folk like you and me from going to church. Your daughters ever been to church?" Precious said.

"Not all of them." I looked back down to the moss under my hands.

"Than you better get them there. It is Sunday morning after all."

"But you are just a midsummer's' nights dream." I shook my head.

"We may be a lot of things, girl, but it is time for you to get your ass up and get those babies to church. Here comes first light." Moses points to the east and indeed I see the sun rising.

"Not much time to make breakfast and get those girls dressed." Precious said in such a loving voice.

"But I... is this all you have come to me for? To scold me? I am so lost."

"You are lost. So I gave you a kick in the butt to show you the direction home. Don't make me do it again!"

I sat up straight now covering my butt with the solid ground.

"We love you baby, that is why we came. You do what you are supposed to, trust in the good Lord to take care of the rest." Those loving words Precious said as they faded into the sunrise were the most kind words I heard in a long time.

I got up grabbed my guitar and blanket and bottle went into the house.

I deposited the bottle in the trash and started making pancakes.

I have made pancakes every Sunday since.

The smell of pancakes woke the girls. I set the table and explained they all needed to get dressed after they ate in their finest clothes.

"Why?" Freedom asked more bratty than curiously.

"Because we are going to church."

"What's church?" Solace and Chaz asked

"You'll find out. And if we like it maybe we will go back some more."

They started scampering off to their rooms to change when I heard "I love you Mummy" and I realized I have heard those words all this time. It just dawned on me that every day I was showered with love I just wasn't willing to except it because it wasn't the kind I wanted.



Thursday 5 November 2009

Feel Me



The track to justice is full of pitfalls, traps, snipers and highwaymen. It is the best way I can describe filing for divorce and child support.

I remember hearing me men friends over the year talk about the "leaching women using the system with their free lawyers meant to milk men dry". Lord knows I tried but could not find anyone like that to help. I stood in long lines with people who gave me papers to fill out and when asked a question told me to hire a lawyer or that I didn't want it bad enough. Once the legalize was filled out than they wanted money for this and that fee. There were no free leaching lawyers. I can see why after all this women are so hateful by the time they see the men in court.

Oh, than they make you wait. And wait. And wait.

You want it over yesterday. You want it all gone so you can start over. You think that once the judge bangs the gavel it all magically disappears. All the hate and love and resentment and good and bad memories and the extra weight while we are at it.

So I spend about a year going from crying to hope to eating too much ice cream to not eating at all to eating ice cream again. I don't remember much more from that year. I wish I did. It was like my mind was turned off and my survival primal brain took over.



I looked through my closet and found the most respectable dress I could find. One that said I am a responsible mother. I am not a unstable emotional bundle of nerves who can't keep a man. Funny enough it is the same outfit I go to funerals in.

I put my war paint on. First a heavy base. I still have some of my old stage make up when I wanted to cover this mark of wings that don't work. My eyeshadow and lipstick so unlike me, so unbold, so unsluty, just like the pink sweater ladies brigade that dislike me so much. It is what people want to believe is an honorable woman. I look like them. Well a rounder version of them.

As I look in the mirror at a reflection I don't recognize I tell myself I will lose this extra pre divorce depression weight off to the out and about divorcee slimmer me like I used to be back before I knew Ian.

Walking into the courtroom is like walking into a tomb.

The walls and stairs and column. All stone cold.

It seems so silence and dark.

Oh wait that is me, I must remember to keep breathing.

I wish I took something to kill this pain.



But I didn't because I didn't want the judge to think me an addict. But As I breath and sound comes back to my ears so loud I do feel like I imagine detoxing must be to a heroin addict. The sweats start. This make up and funeral suit are so hot with so many people.

I make it to a seat. As sight and sound come back more firmly I look over and see that all familiar face. I smile instectively. He doesn't see me. His is the only face that I recognize. It has been a year.

My mind goes to those places I would not allow it to go before. All those years. All that love. all those babies made. Seeing him hold his first child. Gleaming with pride and love.

The love. I get so caught up in that feeling. Like seeing an old friend again after a long time. Some silly spat you don't remember quite what it was about. Like time to move on with the feeling you had once, a love so strong you can forgive some little trifle thing and get back to being a family.

As I stood I could see him in my waking dream beg the judge time to talk to me, to save is marriage, his family. He realized he made a mistake. He realized that some loved were greater.

Then she walked in with his son.

The son I could never give him.

Not gaining an ounce for the trouble.

He smiles at her and kisses her as she sits with the boy in her arms.

His lawyer whispers in his ear.

I tried not to hate him. I tried not to let pain back in. I tries to hold on to the love I just felt.

I don't remember much of the time there after that. The Lawyer, "blah blah blah" and " so you see he has a new family to support, she has her own means, she has the house, give her no more" and more "blah blah blah" and "loves all his children, this woman kept him from them" and more "blah blah blah".

If I had a friend to stand with me, maybe I would have remembered more. If I had a friend who asked me later at a pub I would have told them just that.

In the end I only ended up with $1000 a month to live off of with the 4 children. Not all school age. Meaning I had no way to go to work. Not that there was much work where I lived. Small towns don't tend to hire the town freak.

I walked out of the cold cold court room after the clap of thunder that was the gavels strike. I was trying so hard to hold on to the images of the past. I tries so hard not to cry. I made it all the way back to the car.

With all those nasty things his lawyer said about me, I wonder if he remembered any of the past at all. He had moved on.

I came to realize all my best days were behind me. I had no clue how I got to the pub. I have no clue how I got home that night. I remember paying the babysitter who wanted double for being gone so long. The next thing I remember was waking up with my old guitair wrapped in a blanket on the deck sitting in the Adirondack chair.

Though I could have swore I saw Moses put the blanket around me.