He is, without a doubt, the most intelligent person I know. It’s not just the trivial knowledge that would make him a star on jeopardy, but the background history that he has mastery over that gives conviction to his beliefs. He never went to college, had little use for high school but his repertoire isn’t just a recitation of book facts he’s picked up along the way, but a sense of real world application from experience. We might not agree on politics, but he’ll see where I come from and how my life differs from his and can support my perception. I have often said he is the character from which Matt Damon created “Will Hunting”. The comparison runs deep.

His childhood isn’t spoken of. Named for a father that deserted him, there is tragedy in the story that will not be told. He works with his ex step-father, sometimes even house sits for him, watches his dog, despite him being the second bad choice his mother made, the second one to walk out on them. He rarely speaks of his mother. He sees her, from what I can tell, a couple times a month and respects her as much as he knows how. He has tucked under the table the issues of her bad choices in men, men who taught him how not to be a father, but shares little to nothing of his own life with her. She has never set foot in his home. No one has.

There is little to nothing that defines his life. He is a hard worker, rarely taking a vacation day or a holiday, working up in the ranks into management at the company where he’s worked since high school. He takes his job seriously but recognizes its limitations. It is there to provide a roof over his head and little else. His friends, likewise are ones carried over from school. People with whom he has never aged. Nights of camping out in the woods with the intent to drink and play with fire carry the depth of his long-time relationships.

Deep in his heart he is a romantic. A man with hopes of holding his own child. But these words will never fall from his mouth. No one has shown him how, no one has shown the way through the fear, no one has demonstrated commitment. He knows no way except the wrong way and for that he refuses to move.

He has loved only two in his 35 years. The first, a high school sweetheart, a girl from a similar mold ended up the wife of another. The second, an ill-suited, polar opposite girl whom he never should have had reason to meet, is me.

We will never be a pair. His fears will keep him alone, his coping mechanisms with which he keeps the world at bay will always keep me outside looking in. I know better than to think a man will change. I might care, and care deeply, but only he can save himself.

He used to come over after LM had long been asleep, with Chinese food and a bottle of wine and a movie I never would have picked out myself. It was enough, for both of us, to have someone to sit next to. He smiles rarely, but when he does it will light up your heart. He laughs even less and yet it is with complete abandon. He has told me he loves me only once, in a moment I am certain he would take back if he could, only for the vulnerability those words can leave, and yet he could never say them again and I would know. He doesn’t love easily and he doesn’t love carelessly. His heart is so fragile, so raw, so desperately in need of affection but far too scared to reach out for it. I cradle it in my hands, always proving that I can hold it gently enough, that I won’t drop it or let go, that it can stay there as long as he wants it to without consequence. Love, after all, shouldn’t come with expectation.

Despite not speaking in nearly a year, not a week goes by that I don’t wonder how he is. It’s not unusual for such a silence, he has to walk away and readjust his heart, unfamiliar with someone whom he can choose to leave instead of the other way around. He doesn’t want to be close to someone, doesn’t want to feel what he feels, so I give him the time to get comfortable, never knowing if he’ll come back to the friendship or quit it for good.

He said hello last night. Just hello. (Don’t push, don’t ask too much of him upon his return and he might stay for awhile.) He was checking in, seeing if I was through with him, seeing if I would reaffirm his lack of worth and send him to the curb. He teases and flirts and tests the water and waits for me to slam the door. But I never do. The line has long since been drawn; our relationship long-ago defined as something other than a girl to take home for the night, he has come to care more than that would allow. He knows what can and cannot be; he’s not looking for me to abandon my principles and firmly held beliefs (he wouldn’t respect me if I did), he just wants to know if I still care without actually asking the question or letting on that it matters. But it does. And I do. I always tell him in extraordinarily clear terms exactly how much I care about him. He needs to hear it more than he needs water, and I recognize that I’m the one he needs it from the most. I am the one he trusts and respects and cares for deeply in return. It is the reason he returns each time. He is the sort of man you would never dream of hugging, the sort who scoffs at those who do, and yet, within your unrelenting, honest, sincere embrace, he will break down and relish the comfort of your arms.

After an hour of careful chit chat he asked shyly if he might come over, asked with trepidation and hesitation. I answered with equal pause. No, I said. Not yet, not now. He does not ask with purpose, a hand to hold and a heart to love is all he wants. It is not often that he sits in a silent room and simply breathes with another soul. But he will come and then he will go and it will all be on his terms for he knows no others. I do not expect nor want much from this man, but it takes such strength to love him, such patience and persistence and about when I start to see through the walls into the light of his soul, he will walk away again. And this, he knows, too.

I have always prayed that through our friendship, he might learn that love can be trusted. That he might begin to believe he is worthy and someday he might let in the woman who will show him through the fear into a life he is compatible with and he will feel safe to live his dreams. Maybe I am too ambitious. Maybe it is not my place. Maybe God doesn’t need me in the middle to show His love.

Or maybe,

I am the one who needs to learn.

When I come to find the refuge
In the easy silence that you make for me,
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me,
In the peaceful quiet you create for me,
And the way you keep the world at bay for me,
The way you keep the world at bay.

– Dixie Chicks

Last night I finished Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. It was a good read, a true account of the Clutter Family murders in the 1950’s. I set the book down and immediately watched the movie “Capote” with Phillip Seymour Hoffman, an account of Capote’s life during the time he wrote In Cold Blood. For all the ways that books can change a reader, can change how we think, how we perceive people, events and life, this was a great movie about how writing this book changed the author. I highly recommend both, better paired than alone. I’m looking forward to another film coming out later in the year called “Infamous” about Capote, with Sandra Bullock as Harper Lee.

1. It is possible for the planning, buying, paying, mapping, packing, dressing, driving, shuttling, schlepping, and finally sitting to be managed by one adult without losing the keys, the kid or my sanity.
2. Tickets in Row 2 of Turn 4 sound awesome when you’re making the purchase. In reality, being that close to a track with high banking means you won’t actually see anything that happens directly in front of you.
3. Sunblock with spf 45 is mandatory for such an event in order to repel the ferocious UV rays of the sun. The sunblock will, however, also serve as a magnet for every little speck of rubber that flies off the track and will be super-absorbent for the sandy jet-dry they spread on the track to soak up an oil spill.
4. All of the above plus the fragrant odor of fuel and exhaust makes you so sexy you wonder how you left the speedway without being asked for your number once.
5. Sunblock is not used by the majority of race fans who are sunburnt beyond words by the halfway point in the race and too drunk to care by the end.
6. The fly over will give you goosebumps for days.
7. So will the singing of the Star Spangled Banner.
8. So will the roar of 43 race cars flying past you at 150+ miles per hour.
9. As will the feeling of a crowd of 100,000 spectators shouting “Amen!” after the invocation.
10. The person with the lowest tolerance for alcohol and the least amount of interest in the race will sit/stand directly in front of you for the duration.
11. This person will also be attractive enough to solicit lots of attention from perfect strangers who have to stop and join in her antics, thereby blocking your view of the track even further.
12. Despite packing sandwiches, yogurt, jello, pudding, string cheese, peppermint patties, pretzels and other assorted expander-friendly snacks, The Child will still wonder aloud half-way through the race, “What’s for dinner?”
13. Being a non-smoker and a non-beer drinker, you will end up being surrounded by chain smokers and beer drinkers who spill their beer on you not once, not twice but three times during the 400 laps.
14. The number one sponsor for NASCAR, the one so huge they named the Championship after them will NOT use their marketing genius to have trailer in yellow and black with the NEXTEL logo or word upon it making it easy to spot in the crowd of otherwise branded trailers selling merchandise (in order to pick up the much spoken about “Fan View” scanner), but will instead have a small trailer with a blue and white awning labeled “Track Scan”.
15. When you rent two headsets and a scanner the gentleman at the counter will hand you a pamphlet with instructions but will tell you not to bother reading it, just have your child explain it to you.
16. In the last ten laps of the race, when your favorite driver is making his move from third to second to first, large, drunk men will stand at the fence in front of you, completely oblivious to the race but blocking your view nonetheless.
17. Large, drunk men seem to think it is proper etiquette to show off their extended beer bellies to the crowd by not wearing their shirts for the entire race.
18. These same large, drunk men will also announce loudly “hot tits!” whenever a well-endowed woman should happen to walk by.
19. 99% of the women who are wearing bikini tops or mini-skirts at a NASCAR race, shouldn’t.
20. Despite all the above and perhaps because of it, when the competition struggles and your driver stays in contention for the duration of the race, finally taking over the lead for good in the final laps and securing a victory at Dover and first place in the Championship points race, it will all make for a day you and your son won’t soon forget. For all the right reasons.

I didn’t sleep well. I awake long past midnight and up long before five. I have a lot on my mind and was anxious to just get through this with LM this morning so we would know how bad it really was and stop WORRYING about it all. It’s so hard as a mother to know how to help your child be courageous. And I knew this would take a sheer act of bravery to sit and allow the orthodontist to put these things in your mouth when you know they are going to hurt.

I took the dog out around 7:45. LM was coming from his dad’s and he was late and I was pacing. My neighbor came out and saw me and laid into me. Let me give you the history (I was going to link to past posts about my neighbor, but I’m too tired to find them):

I have had problems with this neighbor for quite sometime. She lives below me with her two boys, one is in high school, one is in middle school. I have endured rocks being thrown on my patio and at LM’s bedroom window. I have dealt with little plastic pellets being shot at the door and all over the yard. I have had to ask for their music to be turned down on more than half a dozen occasions. As recently as last week, the boys smeared some green paint-like stuff all over my front door. Each and every time I have had an issue I have gone directly to them. I have spoken with the boys or their mom. I have been polite and mature and dealt with it as a neighbor. For the most part, they comply. They just come up with something new the next week.

On Monday, Memorial Day, I was watching a movie and heard a strange sound out on my deck. I knew at least one of the boys and some other neighbor kid were downstairs on their patio so I muted the tv and waited to see what they were up to. About five minutes later I heard the noise again and this time identified it as a pellet from a pellet gun. The boys were shooting pellets at the birds on my birdfeeders. The birds weren’t 10 feet from the gun. I was pissed.

I stewed about for awhile trying to decide if this was truly criminal or if it was just personally upsetting. I had been out on my deck earlier watering the plants and I realized that if I had been hit by a passing pellet it could break the skin. I decided to call the non-emergency police number and ask for their opinion. The dispatcher told me she was sending out an officer immediately, that this was not okay and to stay inside until it was cleared up.

The officer came and saw the boys on the patio. He went directly to them and spoke with them at length. They tried to deny it, but the pellet gun was lying at their feet. After some time their mom came out but I don’t know all that was said. The officer eventually came to my door and came inside and I explained how there was a history here and I’m not one to just call the police over nothing but this seemed more destructive than normal. He completely agreed and told me I had a right to press charges if I wanted to. I declined, saying I just wanted them to stop. He let me his card and told me to call if I had any further incidents.

Back to this morning. My neighbor is now standing in the parking lot reading me the riot act for calling the police instead of just coming to her to deal with the problem. I explained that I HAVE come to her on numerous occasions. She said, “You’ve never complained about the pellet gun before!” I explained that it was a whole new level of destruction and I thought it was more serious this time. She freaked out. She went on and on and on but the gist of it was that if I so much as sneeze from now on, she’ll call and report me for noise violation. She has issues with my dog and threatened to call the humane society (she thinks he’s too big to be in a condo). I told her that if she felt that way to please feel free to make the necessary calls. She told me that she’d have me down to clean up any mess from bird seed falling on her patio. I told her that if she felt she had concerns there to contact the condo association. She assured me she would do just that.

After this heartwarming dialogue, I rushed LM off to the orthodontist to have them tell me that they wrote the appointment down for 10am, whereas I had it down for 8am. I gave her that “we’re not leaving without expanders” look and they took us in.

The expanders are in. The orthodontist has a healthy sense of humor and kept LM entertained while he was being tortured. They are uncomfortable and he doesn’t talk well currently but he wasn’t in agony. He headed off to school with a notebook ready to write messages instead of speaking. I packed him a lunch full of soft things that he was looking forward to. I’m sure he’ll have more discomfort tomorrow when it really takes hold in his sinuses and his head but for now, we’re through what is the roughest part to me.

As for my neighbor, I called my association this morning and gave them the rundown. She encouraged me to write a letter with the history on it so that it would be on file should this neighbor file any complaint. She was outspoken about her support of my actions and stated that this woman is renting her condo and she doesn’t have nearly the leg to stand on that I do anyway.

All of this is to say that my nerves are officially SHOT today. I wish I could move out tomorrow for a hundred reasons (my neighbor is just steadily moving herself up to the top of that list). If nothing else, I expect that the police will be called the next time my dog barks and that I’ll have many more exciting stories to tell as time goes on.

Thanks for all your well-wishes for LM.

Grocery List:

Potatoes
Sour cream
Cheddar cheese
Bananas
Blueberries
Yogurt
Gogurt
American cheese
Peaches
Alphabet soup
Ice cream sandwiches
Chocolate pudding
Orajel
Children’s Tylenol
Mangoes
Milk
Eggs
Baked beans
Mandarin Oranges
2 bags of anxiety

Yes, tomorrow is “Expander Day”. This time tomorrow we’ll at least know what we’re dealing with.

Updates to come.

(Prayers welcome!)

Twice this morning we saw turtles in the middle of the road. For one, we were able to stop and get out and move it to the sidewalk.

We had to make a trip to the orthodontist this morning. Last Thursday night LM flossed out a spacer. Office was closed on Friday followed by a holiday weekend and he NEEDS that space in order to get the expanders on tomorrow. And by God we have to put those expanders on tomorrow.

LM is a nervous wreck. Anticipation is so often worse than the actual event and he is anxious about getting this done. I have planned fun things to do each night including seeing “Over the Hedge”, swimming and a Nascar race (not really planned this way, but a distraction nonetheless).

When LM got out of the car this morning to move the turtle he said he could tell the turtle was nervous as he started to pull his head into his shell. When LM picked him up, his little feet kicked and kicked with all the ferociousness a turtle can muster. I know the shelled man had no idea of the imminent danger of being in the middle of the road, nor of the unselfish kindness that LM demonstrated in moving him to safety but in the end, the fear the turtle felt was unfounded and he found himself in a much happier place.

Why did the turtle cross the road? Perhaps to show a little boy that we’re all afraid sometimes. And sometimes, there’s nothing at all to be afraid of.