The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Tags

dragon, Isabel, mom, prom, tattoo

This day came so much more quickly than I ever could have anticipated.

Ever since Isabel was a little girl, she’s talked about going with her grandmother to get a tattoo.  Years ago, my mother got a tattoo on a trip to Hawaii; and, Isabel had always been fascinated by it.  It’s a pretty plumeria, on the inside of her forearm.  Mom had always said that when Isabel was eighteen, she’d take Izzy to get a tattoo.  Isabel has never forgotten this.

In anticipation, Isabel asked a friend to come up with a dragon design for the tattoo.  She came home with the picture, and I will admit…I was concerned.  The drawing that her friend had done was A) very big and B) not…graceful.  It was cumbersome and the colors were muddy.

The whole idea of the tattoo made me uncomfortable.  I don’t have a problem with tattoos themselves.  I just was having a hard time letting go of the control over my little girl.  I had to face facts…she was legally able to go get her whole body covered in tattoos at this point.

Rather than make her feel that I wasn’t on board, I decided to get busy and come up with some ideas for her to consider.  After researching some ideas online, I worked out four different samples.  I’m happy to say that Isabel decided to go with one of the four that I drew for her.

Knowing that this was something that was special for my mother, I decided not to go along.  I didn’t want to be the squeamish mother, antagonizing her kid.  Isabel picked up her two friends and they took off for my mom’s house.

My mom asked that Isabel bring her prom dress along, so that my dad could take some pictures.  To see my hoodie & jeans wearing girl in a shoulder baring dress, I am just blown away.  My daughter has no idea how beautiful she really is.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.  She’s a modest young woman, and I’m just fine with that.

My mom made lunch for the girls, and they dressed Isabel up in her dress and my grandmother’s bracelet.  They laughed and had a great time.  It’s the first time that my parents have seen Isabel with friends and they thoroughly enjoyed the girls.  My dad took a bunch of pictures.  I’ll take more on prom night; but, it’s nice to see her relaxed & smiling.

Once the photo shoot was over, Mom and the girls took off for the tattoo shop.

Mom had met with Amy before-hand, to talk about Isabel and get an idea of Amy’s work.  She felt really comfortable with Amy & felt that she’d do a great job.

I wasn’t sure how Isabel would do, but Mom said that though Izzy winced a few times, she never made a peep.

It took just about an hour and a half, but the finished product came out beautifully.

Though I can’t imagine actually getting a tattoo myself, it makes me feel good, knowing that my daughter chose my work, and will always have a bit of me with her.  I’d like to think that she’ll know I’ve always got her back.

Hearts break for lots of reasons #scintilla Day 10

Tags

aunt, grandmother, heart_break, hospital, mom, scintilla

Day 10: Tuesday, March 27, 2012

• Prompt A: Talk about breaking someone else’s heart, or having your own heart broken.

Hearts break for lots of reasons

Afterwards, I sit in my car in the parking lot.  Tears spill over the lids of my eyes; but, I’m not actually crying.  Instead, I keep making these funny, hiccuping half-sobs.  I’m so stunned that my mind is still reeling.

“She didn’t mean it, Sweetie.” 

My aunt says, “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Over and over, she begs me to forget the words that seemed like perfectly aimed, poison-tipped arrows.

But, how can you forget words that, on some level, could actually be true?

All of these years, I’d thought I was special.  I thought I was doing her a favor, as much as she was for me.  Every weekend, while my husband worked, I would bundle the kids into the stroller and we’d walk to her house.  We would spend the day talking and playing with the kids while I did my laundry.  Rain or shine…well, mostly shine…it was Phoenix, after all. 

Could it really be that she’d resented me?  She’d never said a word.  On days when we were late, she’d get into her car and drive the route that we walked, looking for us.

Later, my mom calls. 

“I heard what Grandma said.” 

I can’t speak.

“It’s the medication.  And it’s possible that she’s had another stroke.  She loves you.  She loves those kids.  You guys were the best thing for them.  She looked forward to the weekends.”

I’d always thought so.  Now, a little voice keeps repeating her words.

She’s been fine all afternoon.  She’s been quiet, listening and smiling while I joke and talk to my mother and my aunt.  As the sun begins to set outside her west-facing hospital room, my mom leaves.  My grandmother becomes increasingly agitated.

Suddenly, the woman who I had grown so close to, who had guided me through the transition from a college kid to a young wife and mother, turns on me with such venom and ugliness that I can only stare in shock.  When my aunt issues a curt reprimand, my grandmother turns on her.  It takes two nurses and a shot to calm her down.

The head nurse gently leads me out into the hall, my aunt following behind. 

“Don’t pay no mind to Miss Grayce, now.”

“It’s Fifi,” I mumble absently.  “She hates Grayce.”

“Go on home.  We’ll calm her down and get her settled.  She’ll be better tomorrow.”

My aunt spins me around and looks me squarely in the eye.

“Promise me you’ll forget all this, Sweetie.  You know that the meds and the dementia are making her say things.  You know she adores you.”

I just nod and choke out a little giggle.  “Yeah.  I guess so.”

“I love you, Honey.  Go home to your babies.”

I get into the elevator behind an orderly.  If he doesn’t push the lobby button, who knows where I will end up.

I find my car in a pool of light, moths circling the street lamp.

As I sit in my car, my heart breaks.  I know that my grandmother is gone.

I am participating in The Scintilla Project. 

scintilla

1692, from fig. use of L. scintilla ”particle of fire, spark, glittering speck, atom,” probably from PIE *ski-nto-, from base *skai- ”to shine, to gleam” (cf. Goth. skeinan, O.E. scinan “to shine”).

For two weeks in March, the Scintilla community will be sharing stories and experiences sparked by prompts sent out each day.  Join us, won’t you?

Yeah, I’ve got one. #scintilla Day 9

Tags

body, eyes, hair, scintilla, smile

Day 9: Monday, March 26, 2012

• Prompt A: Talk about the ways in which your body is awesome.

My body is a wonde…screw you, John Mayer.

This picture was taken last year, on my forty-third birthday.  I’ll take another one in May, to see how I’ve changed in a year.

My body.  Myyyyyy body.  Saying nice things about ourselves runs counter-intuitive to all the ways we find to cut ourselves down.  Being objective is something that we’re terrific at when it comes to others; but, we fail miserably when we have to look in the mirror.  I almost skipped this prompt, then decided that I had better use it as an exercise not only in writing, but also in taking care of myself.

1)  I have one of those heads of hair that refuses to cooperate with my vision what I should have.  It will never be long enough, thick enough, etc.  That being said, I am complimented all of the time on my hair…it’s big…80′s big.  I’m probably the last woman in America that still gets perms.  That’s because I have a lot of hair; but, it’s very fine.  Without a perm, it is flat, straight and blah.  So, yes.  It’s big.  We’re not talking “Welcome to the Country Music Awards” big…yet!  It’s closer to Charlie Brown’s little sister big.

2)  It took me a long time to accept that I didn’t have my mother’s brown eyes or my father’s blue ones.  I have hazel eyes…more accurately, I have eyes  with amber around the pupils.  That is surrounded by starbursts of gold and green.  The outer ring is a band of grayish blue.  My kids both have hazel eyes.  That goes a long way to making me happy with my own eye color.

3)  These days, I see more of my mother in my smile.  I was once told by a complete stranger that I have a sexy bottom lip, and my husband agrees.  It is emminently kissable.

4)  The rest of me is…a work in progress.  I’m working out with a trainer several times a week and I’m getting stronger.  My clothes fit differently and I am carrying myself with confidence.  With the goal of skating derby, I need all of that to be able to hold my own on the track; but, the benefits of a healthy body spill into all other aspects of my life.

I am participating in The Scintilla Project. 

scintilla

1692, from fig. use of L. scintilla ”particle of fire, spark, glittering speck, atom,” probably from PIE *ski-nto-, from base *skai- ”to shine, to gleam” (cf. Goth. skeinan, O.E. scinan “to shine”).

For two weeks in March, the Scintilla community will be sharing stories and experiences sparked by prompts sent out each day.  Join us, won’t you?