KUE61st: Away We (Won't) Go

Women (mostly) have been telling me that I will change - that the image of myself in my mind's eye will change . . . forever.   And I can feel this shift already, it's slight, but I can also feel the ominous future shift(s).  I mean, I'm not someone that necessarily believes in essential  experiences, but I don't see how this won't change me. 

The metanarrative of motherhood has loomed before me like an ominous cliff for years.  (I keep thinking of that famous picture of buffalo being chased over a precipice).  And the soul-sucking vacuum of "what it means to be a mother" and "good mothers vs. bad mothers" creeps into our house every evening when I let my mind go quiet (ok, a dull chatter is closer to reality).

So confession time.  (Don't worry, I'm not gonna go all Jenny McCarthy on you though do read her pregnancy book if you're going through your first pregnancy because there is a ton of stuff no one tells you.  Truly.  Like gross stuff.  Stop asking.  I won't tell you.  At least not on a blog).

I've been trying to imagine myself as a mother  and imagining Mondo and I as parents. Just as I gawked at myself in the mirror the morning of my wedding and announced "do I look like some dude's wife?!"  I sometimes have a hard time grappling with the fact that I'm going to be someone's mother.  I know Mondo is struggling a bit too, but I have no worries.  He's going to be an incredible dad; I've always known that about him.  In fact knowing this about him sealed the deal for me.

Recently my heart has been put to rest.  Finally something that speaks to us!  So, if you have not watched Away We Go, get thee immediately to Netflix.  And if you're reading this thinking "man, that is soooo last year. Where have they been?"  Go easy on me - we don't see movies much anymore (see the calendar of events on IBC's homepage for reasons why).  Here's the trailer if you haven't seen the flick, otherwise the rest of my post will have you crinkling your brow.

Basically this is my generation's pregnancy/baby movie (Knocked Up is a close second) which like other she's-having-my-baby films is also about growing up.  I recognized every person, including us, in the movie in our own journey thus far over the past almost 7 months (particularly this scene).  Mondo's overall judgment: "the most romantic movie I've ever seen."  Seriously.

In the film, Verona (mom-to-be) says, "you know, we don't have to stay here."  And her man/dad-to-be says, "Well, where would we go?"  It would be good to be near someone we know, she says.  So, secretly, I've agonized over the future of the Island.  Not-so-secretly, so has everyone else. 

It got me thinking a lot about the Island.  And being pregnant east of 61^st Street.  And the long road to recovery.  Hurricanes.  City Council.  The fact that we happen to lack both a curb and a sidewalk in front of our house.  The ghosts.  GCDN forums.  Teeth gnashing.  Human frailty.  Schools.  Setbacks.  Pot holes.  My mind goes onward.

But then it got me thinking about the Island.  Again. 

And 1839.  Because it's not Houston.  1900 Storm Survivors.  Ike Survivors.  The human spirit.  Crazy locals/Best friends.  Our soulful architecture.  Our soulful community.  The ghosts.  The art.  The profound beauty.  The profound heartbreak.  Island scuttlebutt.  Our little piece of history.  Our town.  Our Island.

Glen Campbell people!  Glen friggin' Campbell.

(So, Adrienne, take a deep breath).

We're not going anywhere.  Even though it's Africa-hot out right now.