A shitty good day

           Yesterday was a good day... but it was one of the shittiest good days I have ever had. It will be logged away with that handful of other days that were also shitty but good.

I would never say I had a bad day... because every day that I am allowed to walk this earth is a damn good day. But alas some of those good days have sucked a bit.

My family and I have a running streak of "Almost" Tragedies. Those times where our very existence is in jeopardy but somehow we come out on our feet. I would qualify our most recent tragedies as: 

1. The day my husband was in an ATV accident and was helicoptered to Hartford Hospital, with a bleeding puncture wound to his one and only kidney. He spent nearly a month in the hospital ( 2 weeks in ICU)... but he made it. Just an "Almost" tragedy.

2. The day our windows were blown out of our corner apartment in a huge wind & rain storm. A sudden crack at 4am, caused Max (my husband and I) to jump from our bed with such fright that I dislocated my right shoulder. Screaming to my oldest son to run to closet and trying desperately to grab my youngest from the crib with one working arm, the blasts from the windows were a terrifying notification that we have no control over our mortality. The whole event cost us a few nights in a hotel and a good many of our belongings.... but in the end, it was only an,  "almost" tragedy. 

AND THEN THERE WAS YESTERDAY

Once the day was over and I was able to read the news I saw that we had never been in any danger... but thats not the way it seemed. In my mind and in the mind of my children who experienced it.... it will also go down as a day never to be forgotten.

IT STARTED OUT LIKE THIS...


A day full of errands: school shopping, hair cuts, groceries, etc..etc..

I had chosen to do our groceries in at the Walmart in Springfield, MA. It was close to enfield where we had picked up some school clothes and a new pair of flipflops for myself (to replace the ones I melted under the fire pit last week). Grocery shopping was the normal.." don't touch things", "put that back", "Sit down on your but", stop jumping on the cart".... & ......" FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOOOOOOO...YOU CANNOT HAVE POP TARTS!!!" You know.. the normal shit when you are trying to get what you need with an 8 and 2 year old boy.

Anyhow, we were down to the last few items and I was double checking the list when I noticed someone yelling at the front of the store, ( we were at the back but I had a direct line of site to the entry). Others began noticing the commotion as well and slowly everyone stopped and attempted to decipher what was happening. At first I thought, a fight maybe??? Some crazy person causing a scene????

AND THATS WHEN...

The people up front started screaming.... they began running towards us and shouting for us to run. Women were shouting for their children frantically... and employees were crying as they yelled for there comrades. I realized very quickly that something was VERY wrong........

no longer was I concerned that there was a fight.... my mind quickly jumped to.." NO NO NO...holy shit... this is really happening...!!!!" While shouting to my oldest son Taylor ( 8 years old) to "RUN .... JUST GO...RUN!!!!!!!", I desperately tried to grab Dorian (2 years old) from the shopping cart. His foot was stuck... and I became so scared at the delay. I very consciously decided to yank harder. I mean who cares about a broken foot if we are about to get shot up. I yanked him from the cart with all my might and ran... we quickly found an "employees only" door and ran through it, my Taylor was a few feet ahead. People were running scattered and pushing. My relief that the door was not locked was followed quickly by the fear that the door was not lockable and offered us no protection. In my mind I envisioned the end of our lives.... being gunned down.... holding my boys so tight. This fear filled me with propulsion and Sooo we kept running.... through the fire door... out to the back of the store. 

We crossed the back parking lot and ran into the field... the grasses were tall but not tall enough to hide in. I stopped for a moment to assess the situation. 2 hispanic women were close by, one of which was hysterically crying and screaming in spanish as she was looking back towards the store. She had gotten separated from her children and wanted to go back for them... the other women was dragging her further away in a desperation....she was crying too. All around us people kept running, scattering into the woods.  I knew the only thing I could do, was get as far away as fast as possible..... at the very least.... get my kids as far away ....as fast as possible. I still had no idea what was happening. I hadn't heard a gun shots, perhaps it was a hostage situation, or a bomb maybe.... I don't know how far shrapnel flies or how big explosions are. With Taylor staring at me waiting for direction.... I yelled for him to RUN... and I followed close behind with Dorian in my arms.

We ran into the woods and found a shoddy dirt path to follow. Once people figured out there was a path they began to follow us. All I could think was, " If there is someone meaning to cause us harm, they are going to go in the same direction as the herd, we have to get off this path".  I could see a small ravine through the woods and shouted for Taylor to get off the path and go down. He stopped and looked at me "BUT MOM... there's no path...Im scared....!!!" He started to tear up, " MOM....Im so scared!!". Im not sure if it was the right thing to do but I stopped for a brief second and grabbed him very hard..." I know your scared.... but you can't fall apart right now... there is now time for crying.... only running..... DO YOU HEAR ME..... JUST RUNNING... now go down!" He took a breath, wiped his eyes and proceeded down the hill. Together we waded through the Knee deep mud, with no time to retrieve my shoes which got stuck at the bottom and went back up the side. Many people stayed on the path..... but a few followed us. To be honest, I was comforted that we weren't completely alone. 

My arms were tired and my stamina defeated, I put Dorian down and dragged him along holding hands. He too lost his shoes. Taylor, seeing that I was exhausting... picked up his brother and carried him. We proceeded to push through the branches and make our own path, until we finally came running out of the woods into a neighborhood. We screamed to some men who were painting a house to call 911. There were about 10 of us who breeched the woods in this spot and I can't imagine what the men thought... but they immediately called 911 and tried to be helpful.

I felt safe

On the phone with the police they told me that there had been a car parked in front of the building that appeared to have had a bomb and it coincided with a very recent bomb threat. He directed us to walk to the primary road and once the bomb squad gave us permission we would be allowed to retrieve our car.

The walk back by road was approximately a mile. We were very shook up and the silence was deafening.... as most people know... little boys are rarely silent.

I was trying not to step on glass on the Springfield streets and let out a curse when I caught a piece between my toes. Taylor immediately grabbed my arm and with the deepest concern  asked "momma are you okay?". I replied "Ofcourse I am okay, I have you boys, no little piece of glass can take away how happy I am that you are safe". Taylor stopped and hugged his brother and  looked me in eye and said .... " You are my mom, I trust you..... I really.. really.. really trust you and I am thankful you were here with us". I hugged him sooooooo tight.....sometimes there just aren't any words....

We made it back just in time for the bomb squad to clear the scene. I never bothered to go back for our groceries... or my list... or my coupons. Taylor made me promise that we would never go in there again. I thought it a reasonable request and will uphold that promise with ease. 

As it turns out, It was not a bomb... It was a customer who had illegally parked on the curb, whos car had in plain site: 4 propane tanks, an unlabeled jug of liquid and a bunch of electronic devices.

So in the end, It was not even an "almost" tragedy.... but to us it was terrifying and traumatic.... 

I am an existentialist at heart... I am always aware of fleeting mortality. Sometimes I catch slack for that and often people don't relate to the choices I make. I have often been perceived as irresponsible. I have very little regard for future planning and don't care much to live up to the traditional notions of success. My life is filled with the ever present awareness that nothing is guaranteed and you can lose it all in a moment.  My life is not going to be a tragedy.... no matter how many " almost" tragedies that come my way. Each one has taught me about how to value my existence. I believe that when I pray at night and I ask god to help me always remember to live my life with passion and love, he hears me. He teaches me in the most unconventional ways, but I've always been someone that has to learn the hard way. In the end... I know he's got my back. 

Thats why despite being muddied and scratched up, with glass in my feet, I had a new pair of flip flops in the back of the car. I mean.... who melts there flip flops on a a fire pit? 

You might say...someone who is entirely irresponsible. I say someone who spent their last few bucks on weekend beers, staying up too late and talking about life with the people she loves. Someone who needed new shoes in the back of the car at just the right time.

Thats why... even the shittiest days.. are good days.

Very Small Bird

VERY SMALL BIRD

*dedicated to the girls in the break room with surrender and thankfulness*

There once was a very small bird with wings much larger than ordinary, strong enough to carry her over the tallest and furthest of mountains. This very small bird with wings much larger than ordinary, bore painted feathers rivaling the brilliance of the sun, the depth of the ocean, and the clarity of a drop of morning dew against the greenest of leaves.

The very small bird, quite adept at flying, spent her days soaring the hills and valley streams. She dared go farther each day, knowing beyond each new stretch, lay exciting and uncharted territory.  Wasting not a moment, she gazed fondly and lovingly upon each bright bloom and every gray rock. None was like the other and that made each one quite special.  For this she was thankful; the strength to fly, the sight to see, and the beauty she was able to display knowing that it added much to the color of the earth she so loved.

One day amid flight, a strong wind blew (as happens per the laws of nature) and tossed the little bird into the dark swamp. The swamp was deep with cold wet mud that weighed heavy on her wings.  She felt a sadness and very much disliked the dark swamp, so to ease her ache she made great effort to escape. Arising from the thick heavy mud she felt accomplished in her strength and quickly forgot that though the mud was cold and wet, it was also rich with the sands of time and the minerals of experience. Both these elements can be quite useful to a very small bird with wings much larger than ordinary.

But alas she was quite content with her days of flight. Her life was full and her relationship to world and those she loved was full of purpose and connection. She cared not to feel the elements to which she had been exposed in the depths of the swamp and quickly set off to the spring of god. After all, the spring of god is never further than a heartbeat away. She dipped freely in the spring, allowing the waters to rinse clean, her tired and heavy body. That mud so thick, was released with great ease, as the spring of god contains the purest of waters, created to both cleanse and heal. Once again her broad display, shown forth a brilliant spread of deeply colored feathers. She was so excited by the resilliance of her strength and beauty that she gave thanks and quickly left the spring to continue her noble pursuits. For no little birds have time to squander, this she knew to her very core.

The spring of god extended upwards toward the very small bird as her wings, much larger than ordinary extended out dripping the purest of waters. Though she was clean, she was not healed and the spring of god desired her to stay. The spring knew well that the sands of time did render her fragile skin abraded in preparation to absorb the minerals of experience. To this fact, the very small bird was naive and ill prepared. In her rush to take flight she neglected her skin and soon found herself to be surrounded by undesirable consequences.

In a short time, the feathers that dressed the very small birds much larger than ordinary wings, began to gray. She did not know her feathers to be gray and soon became dissillusioned with them, for these gray feathers did not resemble those she so loved to display.  And so.... she thought not to display them. Soon the other small birds (noticing her departure from the skies) came to call upon her.
         

          "Why do you not travel over the furthest and highest of mountains any longer?" they asked. "We so love to share our adventures and moments with you".

          She replied with a loving but dim heart " My feathers have grayed and show no color. What good is it to travel and experience the worlds beauty if I have none to share in return?"

The other little birds saw that she was naive and ill prepared to accept her imperfections. They flew towards the sky, because no little birds have time to squander. This they had learned from her.

Her heart stung with loneliness as her abrasions turned to wounds. She felt certain that her much larger than ordinary wings now drained of their former glory, were not capable of fulfilling their purpose. As she chose to temper her flights and decrease their frequency, her muscles began to atrophy and her span began to stiffen.

One day as the very small bird walked the valley grasses, her beloved came to call.

He spoke from the depths of his heart. "My love, I see that your wings have grayed and have declared their experience. Come fly with me and let our tender hearts gaze upon the ever changing land"

She looked upon him, weak with insecurity and responded, "My muscles have atrophied and my span has become stiff. What good is it to fly together if I have not the strength to meet you at your greatest heights?"

Her beloved saw that she was naive and ill prepared to accept her imperfections. He flew towards the sky, because no little birds have time to squander. This he had learned from her.

Her heart stung with loneliness and her wounds began to bleed. She felt certain that her beloved could capture the grandness of flight much better without her. She bowed her head to the ground and her feathers began to fall out...... one....by one....by one....

The moments passed and the days pushed forth. The little bird with wings much larger than ordinary wept by the spring of god each day. Her terrible sorrow was met with the reflection of such. Through the purest of waters all the little birds can see their wounds with great clarity.

One day her young birds approached her and with great excitement exclaimed:

"Momma, Momma, we know your glory, we trust your love and we are ready for you to teach us how to fly!!!!" She ached so deeply as never before and tearfully spoke, "How can I teach you how to fly when I haven't any feathers to display, nor strength to carry me? How can I teach you how to fly if can no longer remember how?"

Now... little birds have no time to squander in matters of flight, but the squandering of time is a matter of perception. Since the young birds had not yet flown over the highest and furthest of mountains their minds remained simple and unobscured by the beautiful world that can sometimes blind.

They crept up to their mothers very small body, which by comparison was quite larger than their own. 

"Momma, you have wings much larger than ordinary, perhaps you could just catch us when we fall?"

The very small bird heard the bravery and fearlessness in the voices of her young birds and admired them so. She glanced to her reflection in the spring and saw that, yes, she was very capable of catching them should they fall. After all, she had wings much larger than ordinary.

As her young birds made their attempts at flight, they did indeed fall. But determined to help them fly, she stretched her stiffened featherless wings as far as they needed to go. As the lessons proceeded she found her wings to span with greater ease.

She felt happiness in her capability and once again decided to return to the spring of god. Her mind was swept with confusion and questioning..

"I see that I am capable of more than I assumed, why do I feel so lost?"

To which the spring replied "please fall, so that I may catch you."

The little bird saw her pride in jeopardy. "I did fall and you rinsed me! I did as I should and with my wings much larger than ordinary, I continued upon my path. No little birds have time to squander."

The spring of god pleaded with the very small bird. "I did rinse you, this is true, but despite your cleansing your were not healed. The minerals of experience have seeped into your wounds and have not been met with my purest of waters. I beg of you, please fall..... so that I may catch you."

With nothing left but the reflection of her naivety and ill preparation she surrendered to the spring of God and bathed in its purest of waters. She returned day after day and in time began to sprout feathers.....one ....by one....by one....

After all no time spent in the spring of god is squandered.

And... all you need to learn to fly... is the bravery to and fearlessness to jump... knowing you will be caught if you fall. For even wings much larger than ordinary are limited when attached to a very small bird.

-Chandra Lynn Colleen Ribeiro