Fairly Odd Janet

Kate fell asleep on the floor.
Emma is watching TV in between reading a Curious George book. She is wrapped up under a fleece blanket and I think that she might just fall asleep, too.
Damn time change.
Michael is sleeping again, having just drank another ounce of formula.
I marked it on the card on the fridge.
I’m keeping track.
Just in case.

My sister e-mailed me a few days ago.
I only read it last night.
I hurt her.
Remember the post, “Censored”?
On Blogster?
She read it a few days ago.
I thought that she had read it long ago.
I thought, for sure, that she had read it before our epiphany like conversation last Wednesday.
But she hadn’t.
I hurt her.
With my words.
With my feelings.
With my truths.
At least they were all true when I wrote the damn thing.

So, she e-mailed me.
She wants the lines of communication open
(and so do I).
She wants to have our closeness back
(and so do I).
She wants us to release the harboured negativity…my words, not hers…
(and so do I).
She offered me some perspective.
Her perspective.
She offered me some truth.
Her truth.
For the first time in over four years, I could relate to her truth.
Relate to her feelings for her boyfriend.
Relate to her re-awakening.
Brought on by her boyfriend.
Everything is timing, after all.

But it wasn’t her perspective
Or her truth
That stuck out at me last night while I sat and read
And distracted myself from thoughts of my little man hooked up
To tubes
To a mask
Encased in plastic
All over again.

What stuck out
For me
Last night
Was this:

She said that I’m a hard person to get close to.
She said that it’s difficult to get me to open up.
She said that I have walls around me.

And then this afternoon,
The phone rang.
And I answered it
After checking the Caller I.D.

A checking in phone call.
A concerned phone call.
A phone call
No doubt
That was placed out of love.
And care.
And concern.

For me.
For the boy.

For me AND the boy.

And I realized, standing outside, watching the mail lady stop at the box across the road,
Wondering what was inside the box
(A magazine and some McDonald’s coupons)
Listening to myself speak
But saying very little
Letting very little out
Holding so much in
That my sister
Is right.