Real Mom

“This is my real mom”

Enchanting music plays from these kids’ instruments. I adore listening to them play, the experience it gives my soul. I want to be able to enjoy every note, every second of it.

In reality        How long I have been sitting here repeats in my mind. I obsessively check the program, how many songs now? I can do this, only 5 more songs to go…

J’s band was on stage first with their 3 songs so technically I can leave. But I sit pretending that I am handling it okay because there is no way in hell I am leaving without seeing J after this, all handsome, smiling in his tuxedo.

I  practice  ignoring  the  pain,  the  un-comfort  I  feel  seated  in  the  back  of  the theater  as  I  keep  at  least  one  of  my  hands  squeezing  my  shoulders,  the  back  of  my  neck,  my  head,  trying  to  stave  off  dizziness  and  whittle  down  the  pain.  Even  though  I  have  brought  my  own  chair,  it’s  still  a  pain  in  my… allover.  I  continually  shift  in  my  fabric  seat,  moving  the  pillow  that  has  accompanied  me once  again,  trying  to  make  this  position  just  a  little  less  crappy,  moving  my  head  to  get  the  angle  better  for  my  neck.  I  will  finish  this   damn  concert  that  I  love.  I  can’t  even  fathom  sitting  for  over  an  hour  in  their  rows  of  seats.

“Oh how smart of you to bring your own chair.”

“Now you got the right idea.” People say to me as they pass.

I have learned now to just say “yep” as opposed to “well I have to do this blah blah bla”

Usually  I  sit  alone  back  here.  The  principal  and  vice  principal  leaning  against these  back  walls  surely  loving  their  students’  brilliance  yet  secretly  counting  down the  time  until  they  get  to  go  home  after  a  damn  long  day  at  work.  There  is  a photographer,  and  down  the  way  a  person  in  a  wheelchair.  I  sit alone  usually,  but  tonight  AJ  is  with  me.  I  made  him  come  and  sit  in  one  of  our chairs  with  me  in  the  back.  Tonight,  he  is  with  me.  We  finished  with  Costco  shopping  before  this.  I  needed  him  to  join  me  to  help  deal  with  moving  groceries  around  and  heavy  stuff.  I  am  happy  sitting  with  my  son,   my  youngest  love,  enjoying  one  of  J’s  last  ever  band  concerts.  So  it  was  nice  to  have  AJ  with  me  instead  of  sitting  back  here  alone  like  a  leper. But  on  the  bright  side  I  am  not  crammed  in  with a  bunch  of  other  people  and  the  concert  was  awesome  as  usual. 

Before the concert was over one of AJ’s step aunts comes up with his two young step cousins to say goodbye; the kids are getting antsy. It has been several years now since I have seen the kiddos, they were little and it wasn’t often that I ran into them. Their aunt mentions a few things and asks if they remember me. They don’t. Smiling I tell them “hi, I have met you before but you were much littler.”  They remain shy and silent.

And AJ tells them: that guys…”this is MY REAL MOM.” And he says it with loving pride. My breath stops. My soul staggers. I cannot cry. I cannot cry.

I asked him if people thought M was his real mom. They do. They assume so, since she is the one always around. I couldn’t cry yet, I had to wait until the concert was finished and I was alone.

I am ever thankful for their dad and step mom, my kids are lucky to have more than one loving family. We are all surrounded by love. But it didn’t make my hurt any less or my kids’ hurt less either I imagine. This is the reality of our situation. 

My reality in that moment: chucked a hammer into my heart, breaking off shards for future mosaic creations.