It's all happening.
Wow, yesterday morning I was on fire. And by on fire, I mean a mess. I went to the car wash while on the phone with my brother. I pulled up and the guy that worked there tried to sell me a membership to which I replied that I was bad at memberships. I pulled out my credit card to pay for a single wash while he held out his little paying machine. I tapped my card on the back and said unnecessarily but truthfully, “I love tapping that.” He smiled sort of and looked at me like I was unhinged which I am a little.
I was laughing hysterically at myself and the absurd thing I had just said to this poor soul when I saw the sign telling me to put my car in neutral. It was all happening so fast and I’m also bad at multitasking. My car is still relatively new and although, I’ve been through this routine before, I forgot how to put it in neutral. I’m still on the phone with my brother and still laughing about tapping that. Now I’m also freaking out about getting my car into neutral so what do I do? I put my window down. A massive amount of water sprays me in my face and shoulder and gets all over the inside of my car as the disco-colored lights flash and the crazy looking washer monsters start coming at me. I’m still on with my brother who is now yelling, “What is happening?” It’s very loud. There is a lot of internal and external commotion. I open the center consul and read the little tag about how to get the car in neutral. I succeed. And breathe. And tell my brother I’m okay. All is okay. But really, it’s not.
This past weekend, I received a text that my cousin died. She was 64 and died of the same cancer as my mom. My brother had told me the day before that she was in the hospital. I was shocked because I didn’t realize how sick she was. I was also sad that I hadn’t seen her in six years and heartbroken for her husband and two sons.
I had missed the chance to see her in October in New Jersey for a small cousin reunion which I seriously regret. It aways felt like there would be another one. My cousin, Jocelyn was incredibly bright and worked as a librarian at a public library on Long Island. She was very funny possessing a sharp, quick, and quirky wit. She was deeply kind, and I remember how fond my parents and grandmother, Nana, were of her. I can see too the way her eyes and sweet face danced while she talked about my mom and dad. The last time I saw her was at my mom’s funeral and I was on another planet simply trying to survive the weekend in one piece. I didn’t get to talk to her much, but it brought me great comfort seeing her there.
I was in Mexico this past weekend with family and friends and when I heard of her passing, I cried in my room, and then went out to look at the ocean. There was such a beautiful display of nature everywhere, hummingbirds, yellow finches, a rabbit, horses, and whales. As I sat bleary eyed, I saw a whale jump out of the water making big, grand splashes no less than ten times in a row. I don’t know what it meant or means but it felt like something. Maybe a reminder that life and death, tears and laughter, magic and messes are all happening all the time. What else can we do but notice the beauty and absurdity of it all? We can (try to) put the car in neutral and attempt to enjoy the ride as bumpy and twisty as it is, all the while sharing our love wherever and whenever possible. It is always possible.
When I was walking my dog later on in the day, again on the phone, holding an iced tea, keys, and two poop bags, a lady came walking out of her driveway and said, “Here, let me take the poop bags.” I couldn’t believe that she went out of her way to do this. I told her she was the nicest person on the planet. I walked away feeling grateful, humbled, and a little less burdened.