Run Away

I ran away from home Saturday. I packed up my toys (and my daughter) and went to the beach. It was her idea really.

"I wish we could go to the beach," she said. "I just want to get out of here."

Wish granted. And boy did we have fun. We listened to country music on the way down there. Yes, she has recently converted me. I know now all the words to "Before He Cheats," but hat doesn't scare me, because we sang about destroying the SUVs of skanky men together. That really does something for a mother/daughter relationship.

We checked into a hotel with 13 pools ( I thought the sign said 31 and she corrected me after I told my parents we were staying in a hotel with 31 pools) I guess I'm dyslexic as well as obsessive compulsive, bi-polar and generally crazy. But for two days we were sane. We swam, ate, swam some more, ate some more and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company.

And then it hit me, I don't just love her, I like her too. I would choose to spend time with Sarah over anybody on earth. I remember my mom telling me the same thing when I was about 16 but I had forgotten.

"I like you, Mary," she said. "I don't just love you, I like you too." Of course, she was always the mom, but that was when we started becoming friends. I remember at that age, I would rather spend time with my mom and dad than anyone else on earth. Even Jimmy Wiggins.

"I love you." I grew up saying those words, and I say them now, to my husband, daughter, friends, dog, cat, and occassionally to Christian Bale (Batman). But I like you has a different ring. It says I choose you. I want to spend time with you. I don't just need you, I want you too.

Thanks mom and dad, for telling me you love me and like me over and over again. Thanks, Doug, for liking me even when I'm not very likeable. And Sarah...gosh you're the sky, moon and stars.

Hate

There he hangs in the mid-day sun.
Death's eyes bulging.
Tongue protruding, turning black.
The limb creaks.
His body sways in the southern breeze.

She watches from the side.
Crinoline dress, pigtails and bows.
Hand in her mother's hand.
Chewing on her picnic lunch.
Eyes gleaming.
Sunday's smile on her lips.