Totally True Story, Depending on who you ask, of course

SO today. I drove home from Hilton head Island, SC where my mom lives. I have been there with all of my kids- ages 28-16 and grandkids ages 2 and a 1/2 and 6 months. I didn’t see all six at one time but they came and went like twenty somethings do.

Driving home was glorious and easy. I have done the drive less than a million times but a good number. The clouds were majestic Tibetan tigers resting on a second horizon of gray. I have a deep love for clouds. They once rescued me when I thought I couldn’t live away from the water and the tides. I willed the clouds to become my tides. I practiced daily. And it worked. The clouds can be the tides of Atlanta – I certainly cannot use the traffic.

I have not written. I wrote posts/ essays /pieces about earlier stories and divorce and infidelity and raising children and being single. But then I focused on my now and my now is Mim. Mim is 16 and a half now. She has her own life beyond me somewhat, although, altogether different than the independence my other five had at her age. She likes to walk 12 inches behind and catty corner from my right shoulder, holding on. Is that independence? Well, it has become impossible to write about Mim and not invade her privacy. Invade is such a strict word. I have very little allegiance to privacy as seen in earlier blog posts. But Mim’s life is her own. And my life is intertwined, braided, swirled with hers. Mim has multiple disabilities. Mim is adopted. Mim is included to differing degrees in our neighborhood public high school. Mim has some difficulty with depression and anxiety. You have heard all this. But there is more.

I have read other blogs or books and accounts of mothers recording their family life which included children with disabilities and as the children age, the posts and chapters shrink. The mothers write less and less about heir child in favor of respecting their child’s privacy to tell their own story when or if they desire. Is that how my writing dwindles? Is that my ending? My fork in the road to paint by numbers or photography or protesting. Can I both write the truth of my life with Mim and honor her independence? her life? her privacy? I don’t know the answer.

On the drive home I imagined returning to writing. Of hearing the mashing of alphabet squares. Of feeling my fingers search for the right word. Of rereading my sentences and wondering if they made sense to anyone but myself. And boldly sending the thoughts into the universe for hopes of connection. Of a “me too” or a “I can feel your feelings when I read your words.” I miss that little bit of pride it takes to hit publish when my neediness creeps. And the backlash inside me over who am I to think people want read my words vs that was a great paragraph in the middle of that mush. Doubt. Shame. Confidence. Vulnerability hangover. Blushing.

OK but let’s ignore the whole privacy conundrum for the moment. Let’s give everyone fictional names.

Chad- I had given him the name Walt like Walt Disney because you love Disney until you wait in the lines and max out two credit cards and realize no one’s having fun. He is shiny and perfect at first and repainted every night but eventually we learn the truth. Buuuuut- I could change his name to Guy. Like just a guy. You know- that is how my writing works- what do I know about Chad and his life and his inner makings and emotions and thoughts and feelings? maybe nothing. maybe he is just a guy. maybe he represents lots of men.

Our last name will be Shamrock. Look at the word and take it apart. Sham. Rock. At first it is all shiny and lucky practically wish giving. Magical. Definitely a white family name. Irish. But the luck is a sham. the stability. The foundation the marriage is built on is a sham.

Addy- Sunday “Sunny” because she has always radiated. She has sunshine on her shoulders when she walks like a Nancy Griffith song. She is our first. Our Sunday of the week. Sundays are glorious, day of the Lord, connection, community, no work, family dinner with pot roast. Addy isn’t always sunny because. no one ever is. Sundays can be that awful feeling of dread before the Monday. She was born in Santa Barbara, CA. We lived in paradise throughout her pregnancy and first months of life. Or Lamb. I love animal names for children. I do. Lamb because Addy is a lamb and sometimes a lion. Lambs are the most beautiful and such an encapsulation of love and life starting and spring. With your first baby, one imagines they are having a little lamb but life is surprising.

Tuck- Sailor? Booker? Wolfie? When I was pregnant with Tuck, I planned to name him or her Sailor. Chad/ Walt/ Guy sailed a lot and grew up sailing with his family. My dad loved sailing in Tennessee which differed quite a lot from Chad’s sailing the Pacific between San Diego, Catalina and Los Angeles. On the day of his birth I changed my mind and gave him Chad’s name which is Shattuck. And we called him Tuck. And the name though rhyming with a fantastically overused word suits him well. Booker? Tuck is a lover of books. Writing and reading are his livelihood and love. Wolfie? I love names that are words obviously. I want the names to be hints of their character. Tuck could be a Wolfie. Striking. Loves forests. A leader and sometimes alone. Both strong and gentle.

BeBe is our third and always felt like the middle child. She bridges the older kids to the younger. She is the backbone. Her first grade teacher said one day she would be a Supreme Court Justice. Ruthie? Or we have nicknamed her Queenie Bee. Queenie? Or Mercy? To capture her heart that allows everyone to be who they are and loved unconditionally. BeBe is Beatrice. Chad’s grandmother is Bertrice- we changed one letter. Esther could become Easter? Like in the Sheryl Crow song. “he had a daughter he named easter. She was born on the Fourth of July.”

George. Could George be any other name besides George? I have considered Camper. Lovable. Outdoorsy. Always putting in more than he takes? Leaving us all better than he found us.

Dolly- Tigerlily. As we come to the fifth child, I want to juxtapose my leaning into a name I want/ a leaning to my heritage. Not what Chad wants. Dolly is Dorothy- Chad’s grandmother’s name and my Aunt’s name. Chad pronounces her name like a door- Doorthee. I say Darathy. So we call her Dolly. My dad called me Tiger and I love that name of endearment more than anything. Tigerlily could be Tilly? Or Tiger! And there is no doubt Dolly is fierce.

Mim will be Diri or Deery. I considered naming Mim, Indira. We had not met her yet but we knew we were adopting a baby with a mom from India and a Black dad. Mim has long legs – longer than Bambi. Seeing a deer in the forest is a sign of good things to come. Mim is a dear. I like it.

And me- I’m not sure. My name is Marjorie which means Pearl so I love that. Southern and uncommon. I want to use the idea or capitalize on the idea that our family of origin cultures were different. When I was a little girl I met another girl in the doctor’s office and she said her name was Hana. Her mother explained to my mother that her name was Pocahontas and they call her Hana. Im imagined having my own silver dollar with a papoose on my back. My brain for names filed that away as awesome. I have this detail in my head of Chad’s family calling me Hannah for their convenience and Chad not correcting them.

I read the book Remarkably Bright Creatures and the octopus impressed me greatly. Animals as characters in a novel for people. I’m not turning my children into animals. I love the whimsy of word names. The outlandish. The catalyst for conjecture.

Imagine Sunny, Wolfie, Easter, Camper, Tiger, Diri

Lamb, Sailor, Queenie, Camper, Tiger, Deery

It hasn’t quite come together, yet. But it will. Suggestions welcome.