CategoriesArchivesJanuary 2012 |
Chewing the FatFor those times that I want to blather on about whatever. the business side of things…sigh.I just received an email from the publishing house that I wrote the reluctant reader for. A long form to fill out. Many pages of questions requiring details, facts. New photos are wanted with strict requirements and instructions. A request for media contacts and so on. And when I opened this email up and read it, I wanted to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head. The idea of starting all of this “being out there” all over again, when I feel like it was only this week that I started settling, letting go of the chaos that has been the last few months. Trying to tell myself that it’s okay to relax, let go, settle in myself, my body, my home. I was really surprised to tell you the truth. It’s a short little reluctant reader, for goodness sakes. People don’t go on the road for them. Do they? I thought I was off the hook for next year. A few Porcupine things I’d promised to do. A visit to my daughter. A vacation perhaps. There’s something about forms that overwhelm me. And this one, looking at it, is going to take at least two or three days to compile. And it’s Christmas and I don’t want to take the time off of Big Muckle. I’ve just finally started to get a real good writing rhythm going. I wonder if they’d mind if I waited until I finished this draft? Probably. Phooey… Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, December 13, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Christmas treeWe bought our Christmas tree today. It was the fastest tree buying excursion I have ever been on. When we were little we would divide the family up into small groups, put on as many layers of clothes that we possibly could wear (and still be able to move our limbs) and then we would trudge out into the snow. The cold winter air biting our faces, turning our cheeks and noses a rosy red. We would hike for hours sometimes, all of us searching for the honor of choosing out the most beautiful Christmas tree ever seen. Once we found and agreed upon a tree, we would tie a bright ribbon around it so we wouldn’t get lost and the ribbon could be seen from far away. Then we would race back home, full of giggles and excitement, our hearts exploding with joy. So certain were we that our tree would certainly be the most beautiful tree of all. Then the whole family would go out with the saw and we would look at the trees and choose the best. That part wasn’t as much fun. There was some arguing. It was hard to agree. Some family members liked big bushy trees with an abundance of branches. Others like the wispy ones. The Charlie Brown Christmas looking ones, because they felt you could see the pretty Christmas ornaments better that way. Now me…of course I didn’t like the bushy ones or the sparse ones. I liked the pretty ones, because I was no fool. And the pretty ones were the trees with elegant draping arms, just right for showing off the fine ornaments and tinsel. The ones that weren’t too bushy, or too sparse. I like the trees that were beautiful and magical and everything a Christmas tree should be. The one that whispered to me in excitement, “Look at me! Choose me! And all your Christmas dreams will come true!“ But they never chose my tree. They never heard the whisper. And I guess that’s why, some of our Christmases weren’t quite as happy as they could have been. But today, I didn’t have to tromp around the woods for hours, clambering up hillsides only to discover that what looked like the perfect tree had a big gaping hole at the back. We drove to a Christmas tree lot, walked in, and there it was! The most perfect tree! This never happens. Even in a fancy Christmas tree lot you have to pull a lot of possible choices into a standing position, look at it from every angle, check out pretty much every tree in the place, until finally, you find the one. Today, I walked right up to it. It was towards the back of the lot. It was the first one I touched and as I lay my hand on it, I got that magical feeling, and I knew. I knew, but I was holding my breath too. “Could you hold it honey?“ I asked Don. “I want to see what it looks like.“ And I stepped back, and it was the happiest feeling. The tree was perfect. Just right. And I knew in that moment, even though Emily and Will aren’t going to be here this year. I knew that it would be a very nice Christmas and even though I’d be missing them, my heart would have gladness too. And I knew that we would have a nice time with our friends flying in from far off places. And we would drink wine and eat yummy food and laugh and maybe even turn the music up loud and dance like we imagine we used to , when we were young. And maybe I will be able to convince them to come out with me and wander our neighbourhood for an hour or so, singing old time Christmas carols and la..la..la in the parts where no one remembers the words. And David will come, on Christmas Day with his friend, so there will be stockings, because Santa still likes to come, even though they are grown. Yes, I will miss Emily and Will, but there is always the phone, and our hearts will be connected, even if our hands aren’t. Much love, Meg Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 12, 2007 in Chewing the Fat sometimes you have to step away…and eat chocolate.Okay, this is writing time. I am in my writing room. I was working on my manuscript, but then I finished up the bit that I was working on yesterday and I’ve hit another large tangle. This chapter is a bit more difficult to handle because I LOVED this chapter in the old draft. It was one of, if not my very favorite chapter in the book. But it doesn’t work anymore. Doesn’t work at all. The whole purpose this chapter served was to shine more light and understanding on a relationship and situation that no longer exist in this new draft. Sigh… I have to take a breather. I’m trying to hang on to a little of it, a smidgen. I’ve cut a total of 6 pages out of a 8 1/2 page chapter. I’ve got the other two and a half quivering on the chopping block. I’m hoping I’ll be able to rework maybe a sentence or two, but I’ve got that sinking feeling in my stomach that I won’t. Sometimes, writing sucks. Anyway, I dealt with it by flinging myself from my desk, tearing into the kitchen and cutting in half and eating 6 halves of the fancy Thomas Haas Chocolates that we just picked up. (I wanted to just eat them all. Waistline be dammed. Cram them into my despairing mouth, but I didn’t want my husband to miss out on any of the fancy flavors. And since these are relatively new chocolates for us, I don’t know which ones he’s going to like the best.) I am in such a desperate state with the loss of this beautifully written chapter that I would have eaten all of them if I wasn’t so fond of old Donalah. And now here I am. Taking a short breather. Calming myself down to do what needs to be done. Breath in. Breath out. Relax. Okay. I’m off. Back to the writing. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it. Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, December 11, 2007 in Chewing the Fat writingI threw out a whole chapter today. Just kept four sentences from the old chapter and those I re-wrote. How can a whole chapter be worthless? Not add anything of any value to the structure or the story? How could I have thought that this manuscript was so great when I finished the first draft two years ago. And thank God I put it away for a while. It needed sooo much work. How could I have been so blind? There is so much there that is just not necessary. So much dead wood. So much to remove and discard. And then, the next day, I go back to what I had worked on the day before and am stunned to see how much more needs fixing on this piece that I was finally able to leave alone the previous day, thinking that it was so much better, smoother. I’m at that point with the manuscript were no matter how much I manage to get done, it doesn’t feel like enough. And the little finger on my left hand and the thumb on my right hand are tired. The little finger feels slightly bruised and the right thumb sore, like it might get a small blister if I keep abusing it in this way. I must sit crooked in my chair that these two digits are getting more stressed than the others. Actually, I just noticed, I am sitting crooked, my left foot tucked up under the thigh of my right leg. My right foot, out to the side and resting on the floor. Let me switch and see if it helps. Okay, now I’ve got my right foot tucked under and my left foot on the floor. And yes, my little finger and thumb are not quite so cranky, but my body is complaining because it isn’t used to being tucked up on this side. It’s like when my children were young. I’d automatically carry them perched on my right hip. I’d try to carry them on both sides equally so I wouldn’t get lopsided and get a crick in my neck, or throw my back out, but it was to no avail. When ever my mind was occupied. (Which was around 98% of the time) up would fly my children, snuggled in tight on my right. Well, my body is still feeling awkward with this position. It’s weird how just switching can make such a difference in how my fingers are feeling. Interesting. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m at this point in my manuscript that even though I’m moving forward, pushing my way through pages, I feel like I’m standing still. Like I’ve made no progress. I just write and re-write and then re-write again. Take yesterday, for example. Yesterday I woke up with the realization that how I started the chapter before the chapter I had just finished after four days of work was off. So, reluctantly, I went back, changed tossed out the old start, wrote a new one and then had to spend the entire days work, re-working the work that I’d just worked! Yes, I know that is a confusing mouthful, but I’ve been re-writing too much, so I’m just going to leave it. It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense to anyone. It doesn’t have to. It’s not a finished manuscript. This is just a blog. Wheeee! I think that’s one of the glories of doing this. It doesn’t have to fixed, smoothed, make sense. There is something very liberating about that. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 10, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Phew!Well, I survived my day as the guest blogger on The Debutantes Ball! Gasp…That was a LOT of questions. I didn’t know what to expect. I figured, yeah, sure, check back once or twice during the day. Maybe there will be a question, maybe not. I made Don promise that if there were no questions or comments that he would write one so that the debutantes wouldn’t be disappointed. Well, Don didn’t have to write one! There were so many interesting questions and comments. I found myself talking about a wide variety of topics. The problem was, no sooner did I answer one question when several more had popped up. There was one point in the middle of the day where I started feeling panicky. Like I wasn’t going to get to them all. The questions were just going to keep pouring in until I drowned in them. But I didn’t want to walk away from it, not answer because the people who took the trouble and time to write in might feel a little disappointed if I didn’t respond. It was a bit of a challenge, because I had to work on my manuscript as well! But I couldn’t go into my writing room for one long straight hunk because I’d feel the weight of the comments responsibility calling me. I had to break my manuscript writing time into chunks. I managed to get my pages done (thank goodness!) and keep up with the comments section, but I wasn’t able to accomplish anything else. Towards the end of the day, my hands were pretty tired and my nose was buried in the dictionary because when I get tired, my ability to spell flies out of the window and my entire answer was underlined in red. And I hate having to dig things up in the dictionary, because the reason you have to look the word up is because you can’t spell it. And if you can’t spell it…how are you expected to look it up?! So, although I had fun, and enjoyed meeting my many readers on-line, I think I’m going to hold off on putting a Comments section on my website. Otherwise I won’t have time for the rest of my life. All the things I enjoy so much, cooking tasty treats, cuddling with my husband, going for a walk, romping with Molly, talking with my boys, my daughter, my friends, writing to them, thinking about life, watching the cloud formations, listening to the grass grow, reading and so on. Thank you to everybody who wrote in. It made for a hectic, but very exciting day! xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, December 07, 2007 in Chewing the Fat good morningDon and Will just went out the door for the trek to school and I decided, rather than to make my tea and go straight to my working on my manuscript that I would post a brief blog here first. Normally I wouldn’t do this but I didn’t get around to blogging yesterday, and tomorrow I won’t be here as well. If you find you are needing your daily dose you can find me at www.thedebutanteball.com. I met Danielle Younge-Ullman (a real debutante, her first novel, Falling Under, is coming to a bookstore near you, Aug. 2008) at my Type book reading in Toronto. She told me about the debutante’s blog and asked if I’d consider being a guest blogger for a day. “Yeah sure,“ I’d said. I wasn’t sure what a “guest blogger” was. At that time I’d only been blogging for a month and a half myself. (I’m much more experienced now with almost 3 months under my belt!) Anyway, we set it for Dec. 6th. Danielle sent me a bunch of questions. I answered them. She sent some more. I answered them. She sent a couple more….You get the drift. Anyway, with this guest-blogging thing, apparently not only do I answer Danielle’s questions, but if any of you out there have a burning question you’d like to ask me, (or just a regular one is fine too) Tomorrow’s the day. I’m supposed to check the site from time to time and respond to comments and what-not. (Hopefully it’s not too hard to do. I am a little electronically challenged.) This is great actually, because Susie, (web designer extraordinarie) has mentioned several times that I really need a comments section on my website. I’ve resisted. Well, tomorrow I’ll get to to try comments out and see if it’s something that I’d like to do on a regular basis. Probably not, but you never know. When we first did my website I wasn’t planning on blogging, and look at me now! Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 05, 2007 in Chewing the Fat helloNot much to write about today. Feeling better. Got a lovely email from Jenny. My writing was slow but steady. It wasn’t one of those magical inspired days, but it wasn’t total crap either. I slogged along and hope I got some good stuff. But who knows? Tomorrow when I read over it I might decide that I must abstain from even the comfort of a brandy cherry or two while writing. I wonder how many one would have to eat in order to feel an effect? Five? Six? The most I’ve eaten in a day is three and I felt perfectly fine. I just glanced up and saw the picture someone took of me and Emily on the set of The Two Jakes. This is one of my favorite pictures of Emily and me. It’s a large black and white photo that’s been blown up. I’m wearing my Kitty Berman Courthouse outfit with one of those 40’s hats that is tipped so extremely that it looks like somebody slammed a large chocolate layer cake with no icing on it, to the side of my head and it stuck. Little Emily’s wearing a cotton sun-dress and little white sandals. She’s only four in the picture and is holding my hand, skipping/walking beside me, a smile of pure sunshine on her face. Our bodies are leaned ever so slightly towards each other. You can feel the bond. My skirt is stretched taut, so I must have been hurrying to get to the set. It was a lot of hurry up and wait with that scene, since most of the principal characters appeared in the courthouse scene. My jacket is wrinkly around the arms and shoulders, so obviously the wardrobe department hadn’t gotten to me yet with the steamer. Probably were waiting until the very last minute. I remember that day. Such a crowded scene, hard to organize. Complicated lighting. It was difficult to get a bathroom break. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the 1st A.D said I could go. I remember sprinting to the bathroom. I remember the sound of someone close on my heels. I didn’t think much of it. All I could focus on was getting to that bathroom, that was a good long gallop down a hall that seemed to go on forever. I get in the bathroom stall. Lock the door. Coat the seat with toilet paper. Manage, to get out of all that 40’s paraphernalia that Jack insisted that us women wear. Try wiggling out of a skirt, a girdle, navigating 1940’s garters and hose, not to mention underwear. Finally, collapsing on the seat, thankful that I was able to safely make it to a seating position without an accident. When there is a “knock…knock…knock” On the door of my bathroom stall. “Miss Tilly…Miss Tilly…Knock…knock…knock. Are you there?“ I freeze. Everything freezes. I have to go to the bathroom like there’s no tomorrow…but SOMEBODY is knocking on my door! I don’t say anything. I am hoping this VERY RUDE person will go away. No such luck. “KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK!“ Louder this time. “Miss Tilly? Is that you? Could you please…“ There is a rattling of paper and THIS PERSON SLIDES A 8X10 photo of me under the stall along with a Sharpie. “Miss Tilly? That is you isn’t it?“ “NOT WHILE I’M GOING TO THE BATHROOM!“ I roar. There is a long silence. A shuffling of feet. “It will only take a…“ “OUT!“ There is another pause. I feel the person outside of my bathroom stall deflate, but I really don’t care. Enough is enough. I am needed on set and I need to pee and there is no way I’m going to be able to do anything with this donkey in here. I hear a sigh. Then a hand appears and gathers up the the photo and Sharpie. “Will…you sign it later.“ “Yes.“ I feel weary. “Please go.“ Finally the person leaves. I wait until I hear the door close behind them before I am able to unclench. Hmmm… Interesting. I had no idea what I was going to blog today. Certainly didn’t think I was going here. Oh well. I did. Anyway, for those of you who think you’d like to be famous. Think again. Here’s a little taste of what you can expect and honestly…It’s not that fun. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 03, 2007 in Chewing the Fat after shocksYesterday, I went from this sort of numb what-the-hell-happened-and-don’t-think-about-it-just-deal-with-the-details of letting go. And found myself angry. A serves-him-right-if-he-regrets-what-he’s-done kind of anger. A cold F___ you kind of anger. I am done, done, DONE! I slept a full uninterrupted night for the first time in a long time. A deep exhausted sleep. When I awoke, the anger was still there, I continued the tirade of all the things I’d done for this friend, the sacrifices I’d made, the many times I spent at his side in the hospitals, in the doctors offices, nursing him back to health, bringing him food on a tray. The countless times I put my life on hold to be there in times of trouble. The endless lies he had told me, right to my face. Promises broken, again and again. I woke up steaming mad and I was glad too! That it was over. The truth had been forced out, a choice had been made. A choice that didn’t include me. “Meg,“ Don said, softly. His face serious. “I know you’re trying to be brave, to be strong.“ And then he held me as all my bravado crumbled away and there was nothing left to do but bawl. Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, December 02, 2007 in Chewing the Fat new beginningsSnow is falling. The first snowfall of the year. So peaceful. I love how the whole world gets quieter when it snows. Muffled, tucked in, hot chocolate and cozy beds. It’s Saturday. The house is still. A gang of family and friends tumbled out of the door this morning, braving the snow to hop on the ferry to Vancouver Island to see Dave. So it’s just me and Don and the two dogs. I guess this is how it will be when Will’s grown and gone. There’s a missing of course, but it’s nice to have all this time and space and no structure. Maybe I’ll write after this blog. Maybe I write later today, or tonight even. I could stay up late, working on my manuscript until the wee hours of the morning, since there will be no alarm clock tomorrow, and only a hot breakfast to make if that’s what we choose. It’s an interesting sensation after 23 years of diapers and night feedings and school sorrows and joys. Years of teacher’s aiding and cookie baking, applying band-aids and wiping tears. Birthdays and pinatas and rented pony rides. I could get all morose. Missing it all. But what’s the point? I have to find what I like in this solitude. The blessings, the hidden joys and pleasures, because children grow up, leave home. You can’t hold back the wind. Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, December 01, 2007 in Chewing the Fat So proud!We just came back from the final show. Will was MAGNIFICENT! He nailed the bread scene, the ending. So proud. Words can’t even describe the feeling inside. Watching him learn how to fly. Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, November 30, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Ravenous Readers and other stuffOh my god! I did Christianne’s Ravenous Readers Book Club last night. What a treat. These teens were 12-13 and many of them had been going to Christianne’s book clubs for 5,6, 7 years! Can you imagine? Reading great books, having interesting in-depth discussions with each other and their parents. The fact that Christianne’s Lyceum offers this kind of thing. The closeness that arises. And oh my, all of us, talking about Porcupine, Jack, Afghanistan, life choices. Why a parent would do what Jack’s mom did? Such insights. Such smart kids. So articulate. And how fun that they had all READ porcupine. The kind of discussion their knowledge of the book can open up, takes the Author visit thing to a whole deeper level. The very first question one of the teen boys asked is, “Does it really work? That getting out of a headlock thing that Jack teaches her little brother?“ Another girl there had come to my book reading. I remembered her face. At snack break, she moved her seat so she was sitting right next to me on my left. Scrunched up between me and her best friend. I loved that. For snack one of the mums had brought, not only all these foods that were in the book, but also lit a little wax birthday candle cake and they all sang happy birthday, because Jack’s mum had forgotten hers. “I cried so much reading your book,“ she said. “It reminded me of my own childhood. How hard things can be.“ And she talked about hope too. How there are those people or experiences that change us, form and fill us. Hold out a light. Such sweetness filled the room last night. I felt blessed to be there. With Christianne and Susan, among these parents and teens. And that they loved Porcupine so much, made the evening that much better. Driving home, late at night, the car still crowded with memories of them. Their faces, things they’d said. When I got home there was a lovely email from Chuck (Village Books) and reading the things he said, on top of this beautiful night at the Lyceum, made my heart feel like it couldn’t contain anymore happiness inside. I opened his second email. It had a link to his blog about the night, which was really lovely, but even better, he told me about booksense.com. I looked it up On-line and I can’t even tell you how excited I got! I was really struggling this summer when we were putting the website together because I wanted to have buttons to click on for my favorite Independent Bookstore but I couldn’t put Village Books or Bolen Books or one of other bookstores that I love so much because they are local, not national. I believe passionately in supporting our local Independent Booksellers. I can’t tell you how sad I am to see them being squashed out. It seems every month I hear of another Independent closing their doors. Stores that I read Gemma in last year, are no longer operating. If you are like me, and love wandering into these places, browsing, having a personal relationship with the staff and appreciate their love and knowledge of books, then you are going to love learning about booksense.com as well. This way, if you are someone who likes doing their shopping On-line, or you are house bound, you can still help your neighbourhood store survive if you want to buy the books on your Christmas list for family and friends On-line. If you live in the U.S. check it out! booksense.com As a matter of fact, don’t just check it out. Do all your Christmas shopping! Because with book sales dropping, we need to do everything possible to help these wonderful bookstores survive. Thanks! Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, November 29, 2007 in Chewing the Fat village booksI had a wonderful time at Village Books in Bellingham last night! Thanks to all of you who attended. I know last year when I came for Gemma it was packed, but I certainly didn’t expect such a huge crowd to show up for Porcupine. It’s not that I don’t think Porcupine is worth it, because I love this book. But I was led to believe that unless you tie a YA book to a school visit, nobody will show up. That’s why I didn’t try to book bookstore events. The only reason I was at Bellingham is because I met Sheri (the events coordinator) at The Pacific Booksellers Conference. She suggested I come, I tried to warn her off of it, she persisted and SHE WAS RIGHT! A tremendous turnout of warm, welcoming, intelligent, fun people. The place was packed, we laughed, we cried, I confessed to things that perhaps were left better unsaid. Ahem…the occasional R______ N____! When I confessed to that, a huge gasp ricocheted around the room. Heh…heh…heh…I’m not what you think! There was that quartet of laughing life-loving women who came. I remembered them from last years event. They invited me to go carousing with them and even though I’m generally not the carousing type, I was tempted, because these women obviously know how to have fun! I met a very special family who told me it was the first author event their kids had ever been to. I was moved that they chose mine. Margaret was there, bearing truffles (what a sweetheart) Nan did as well. I am embarrassed to say that I did eat a few chocolates on the ride home. Okay, more than a few. A woman flew in from (I don’t remember where and dang, her name has vaulted out of my head.) Anyway, she was my stand-in on my least favorite movie of all time. But I remembered her face. And her little boy who was two when I last saw him and apparently I carried him around on my hip at the whole wrap party is 25 now! Gadzooks how time flies! Hmmmm…I’m wondering if all those YA book experts were wrong about bookstore events. Nah…They probably weren’t. I bet no one showing up for YA is the norm. It’s just Bellingham that’s different. I love this town-city. Every time we’ve visited, I always say to Don, “If I had to live in the States, I think I’d settle down in Bellingham.“ Anyway, all of you who attended, thank you for coming. Thank you for opening your hearts to me and Jack. Thank you Chuck and Dee for having me again. I LOVE your bookstore! Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, November 28, 2007 in Chewing the Fat good morning bloggersHello, I’m the lunch cook this week, so I dropped Will off at school. A cozy ride. He was more awake than he usually is in the morning so I received interesting conversation instead of god-I’m-sleepy-and-why-is-she-talking-to-me grunts. It was a lovely ride that lifted my spirits enormously. Coming back home, our sky was, as usual, low hanging and grey, but when I was drove up over the hill, I could see all the way to Mount Baker and the cloud bank seemed to end a little before it, and golden early morning sun was pouring down, lighting up Mount Baker up so that the world could admire it’s snow clad beauty. The far off horizon streaked with dusky rose and peach and violet pastels. And somehow, the contrast of all that light and beauty against our dark low lying clouds and grey, made everything seem even more beautiful. I came back home and right away I got set up to write. No lolly-gagging! I feel very organized this morning. I have my cup of jasmine tea. One teaspoon of sugar. I have another cup that has food to nibble on. Some salted cashews, some crisp organic dried apples, some dried organic cranberries, and just so all of you out there don’t think I’m too virtuous…I also have the second to the last Cranberry Port Dark Chocolate truffle. And the only reason there are any of these truffles left is because nobody was really crazy about this particular mix. The rest of the truffles are gone. Sigh. It’s interesting to me, that I need to have things to sip and nibble on when I write. It’s like keeping my mouth awake, wakes up my brain and subconscious as well. That’s why I have to be careful about what I place by my computer as nibbling treats, because if I’m not careful…I’ll have to bring out Mark’s pants expanders! Anyway, dear bloggers, I’m off to write. Have a good day! xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, November 26, 2007 in Chewing the Fat good-byesWill was WONDERFUL in the play! I was so proud and impressed and moved. Dave kept saying, “That’s a Will I’ve never seen. He never gets mad or mean like that.“ And it’s true. Will is such a sweetheart, and to see him play such a disappointed curmudgeon. To see the subtle layers he wove into his character, the motivations, the fullness with which he was always present. I was very glad the lights were out because towards the end of the second act, the person behind me was sobbing and I found that tears were rolling down my cheeks as well. All the kids in the play really gave it their all. Michael W does an amazing job directing these teenagers. The quality of shows, the sets, the wardrobe and make up, the creative sound design and lighting is so good. The shows he puts on, in no way, have that taste and smell of high school. I had absolutely nothing to do with the production of the show, don’t know most of the teenagers that up there on stage and yet there I was, bursting with pride for all that they had accomplished. Bravo. Driving home in two cars, because we all won’t fit in one. Don drove, ____ and C______. And I got to drive with my boys. Me and Dave talking excitedly about the play, Will’s performance, how much we loved what he had done. Will quietly pleased. It felt like old times. And if Emily could have been there…Ahhh! We got home, had some more pie. Yum! Talked a little bit more and then the boys disappeared downstairs to play a new video game. I talked a little more with Don and then went downstairs to help ____ with his packing. He wanted to take the new Apple computer we bought for him to use up here. He wanted to pack something else that he has always left with us for safe keeping. He was brusk, bordering on grouchy, and I knew then, when he insisted on bringing these two things back to L.A., which way he was leaning. Later, sitting on the sofa with David and Don, I tell them what ____ needed to pack and sadness fills my boy’s eyes. All of us sit with that loss and there is nothing we can do. We talk of other things then. Life and relationships and growing up and moving on. And we are so close tonight. Soft warm family room light, darkness outside. Don and I talk late into the night. In the morning I bring ____’s breakfast tray down. I am determined to keep it light. Last minute reminders, “I’ve put your passport, your money, your keys and your credit cards in the side zipper compartment. Your blackberry is in the upper inside pocket of your light jacket upstairs. Promise me, you won’t let C______ go until you have found a good replacement. Someone whose only concern is to keep you healthy and safe. Who will make sure you take your meds and eat regular meals because if you die, they lose a well paying job. Promise me.“ And he promised. He gave me his word. And I pray he keeps it. “I feel like I’m sending you off to University,“ I say, and tears come, even though I was determined not to. I don’t dwell on the sadness, bustle around the room. Carry his book bags upstairs. Make sure C_____ knows they are leaving in 20 minutes, that he brings ____ his morning meds. I wake David up because he wanted to say good-bye. The car and driver are waiting outside. Lots of hugs and suitcase lugging up and down the front steps. I come up from dropping off his carry-all of meds, and two bags of books and go to hug ____ good-bye and his face crumples and he starts sobbing. I pat his back, wish I could make all this turn out right, but I can’t. And I feel this sadness in my chest because he wouldn’t be sobbing if he didn’t think that this might be good-bye for good. And then he straightens. Puts a smile on his face. I hold his arm as he goes down the steps, he gets in the car and disappears behind the black glass windows. I give C_____ a hug. I’m actually going to miss him. A good person. I sorry ____’s decided to let him go. ____ unrolls the window slightly so his hand can wave above the glass. I can’t see him clearly, only a pale silhouette behind glass. He does that wave my grandmother used to. Small tilting movements of the palm and fingers. The driver rounds the car, in his suit and tie, his long spiffy overcoat flapping around his legs. “Bye!“ I say, a smile on my face. I know the drill. Had to say good bye to too many people in my life. “Good bye…love you. Safe flight.“ I wave until the car turns out of the drive and disappears. Back in the kitchen, everyone needing cheering up. “How about dim sum?“ I say. And it’s a good idea, so Dave takes a shower, Don makes a reservation and when everyones ready we drive into town. Dim sum is good. Delicious actually. It is good to look over at both my boys faces across the table. We go home. Dave and Don battle it out on the NHL Hockey Video game. I would put money on my husband having Sidney Crosby on his team. And then it’s time to take Dave to the sea plane. We drive back downtown. The girl at check in thinks he’s cute. He doesn’t even notice. He’s just out of a three year relationship. She offers to make him a latte. “Why don’t you ask her out? She likes you,“ I say. I was very tempted, after we waved from the dock until Dave walked down the ramps and got smaller and smaller and then finally disappeared into the float plane, to ask her for her email or phone number, to set up a blind date or something when Dave next came into town. Because she was very sweet and pretty and hard working and obviously can cook as well because that was a very fine latte. But Don talks me out of it. “He’s 21, Meg. You would embarrass him.“ So I reluctantly follow my husband outside and get into the car. And I don’t care what anybody says, I still think they would have made a very sweet couple. Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, November 24, 2007 in Chewing the Fat early morning thoughtsI woke up at 5:20 am today. I tried to hold on to my sleep wave but it didn’t work. A million thoughts pushing sleep away. So I lay there in bed, still very dark outside, and let the thoughts float in and then released them. The nice thing was I didn’t hang on to any. The “good” ones or the “bad” ones. Just let them drift. Maybe I’d go back to sleep, maybe I wouldn’t. I thought about talking to my daughter on the phone last night. She was at a friend’s house. She sounded happy. I thought about Kae on The Biggest Loser and how much I admire her. I thought about how I ate too much of my delicious pie yesterday, and that maybe instead of eating a proper breakfast this morning, I would warm up a nice slice of apple pie instead. I thought about Cary’s sweet and thoughtful email yesterday and how grateful I was that we became friends. I thought about getting to see Will’s play tonight and it’s a double-your-pleasure night, because my boy, Dave’s flying in as well. I thought about how Will’s Dad is flying from England on Monday so he can visit with Will and be there for closing night. I thought about my reading coming up in Bellingham this Tuesday and how nice it is that Will’s dad will be here so Don can come with me and I won’t have to do the jaunt across the border by myself. I thought about how ____ stayed to see Will’s play and is leaving tomorrow and how I don’t know if this is a permanent leaving? Or if he is going back to do what (in my mind) needs to be done? I thought about how I’ll feel if he doesn’t. And honestly. I don’t know. I am not God. I think I know what is right for him, best for him, but do I? Maybe a shorter life, but going out with a reckless and angst-filled passionate bang is what would make him happy? Maybe he doesn’t want the comfortable, slow, peaceful, perhaps boring existence that our writerly life can offer him? I don’t know what is right for him. Only he can choose that. The only thing that I have any say or control over is if I have the strength to do what I need to do, if he chooses the other. I feel that I do. I have done enough personal work to honor the fact that I have to listen to my belly. And my body tells me loud and clear that if he needs to stay in that other kind of life and place, with people who I feel are extremely dangerous for his physical, emotional, mental and financial health, I must, for my own heart, step away. Because it is too hard to see what is happening, witness that kind of corruption, selfishness and greed and not get upset. He almost died. And looking at the hospital records. The blood and urine tests, it is clear to me that if he goes back, he is in danger. So to stay, yelling “911! Danger! Danger!“ And not be heard. To allow myself to be in a situation where I see the de-railed train heading for the brick wall, and not be able to do anything to stop it or to help. Who needs that kind of stress? Especially when the person you care so much about, chooses it? Anyway, tomorrow morning he goes. Is it for a couple of days like he says? Will he be able, or even want to clean house? Or will tomorrow be the day we close the door on fourteen years of friendship? Whatever he chooses, even if I am no longer be in his life, I will always think of him with affection and love. Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, November 23, 2007 in Chewing the Fat |
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