Once again, I went to sleep too late.
Once again, I turned off the alarm, said to myself "It's summer, sleep in."
Once again, I am still in pajamas at 10a, whiling away the coolest part of the day indoors when I should be walking, gardening, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine that I so desperately crave at this time of the day in August and September, April and May.
Once again, I've put too much on my to-do list for the day, knowing full well I'll only complete a third of it, at best.
Once again, I've borrowed and purchased books to read, knowing full well my to-read pile is already several years long.
Once again, I've purchased clothes I don't need, a weight-loss program I could probably do on my own.
BUT...
That weight loss program may just be the kick in the seat I need to get healthier, and those clothes may make me feel better about how I look in the meantime.
The books at home AND the books I've just gotten are all at my fingertips, ready to be enjoyed, learning to be gained.
Even completing a third of my tasks is better than none at all, and moves me forward.
Sometimes it is okay to be in pajamas at 10a, after ten months of being three hours into work by this time. The summer sun will be up for awhile yet, still time to throw on those walking shoes and head out the door (though it might already be too hot for gardening).
It was nice to catch the tail end of a dream, instead of waking up in the middle of one.
Tonight is another chance at an early bedtime, which means tomorrow is another chance at waking with the alarm.
All is not lost.
The dialogue began months ago. They both want to come back when her contract is up. They've been looking at the immigration process. It's long, and the authorities do look into everything. It's a little easier if they're married, but they don't want to do it so close to leaving that it looks like it's a marriage of convenience, just for a green card.
Do what you need to, we told her. This is your relationship, your decision. We have no expectations of ceremony or circumstance. We love and support you, whatever the course of action.
But what about the family, she added. We reassured her: don't worry about others' reactions or expectations. If we have to, we'll help negotiate any negativity that arises. Again, it's your happiness, your plans that matter.
The plans simmered for a bit...and then an apologetic text, a month or so ago. I was in a WalMart parking lot when I received it. She was sorry for letting us know via text, but they had set a date. I'll text when I get home, I wrote back. There's a lot to think about.
A flurry of excited messages ensued. We went back and forth a few times over whether we should fly over, but ultimately decided not to go. This was just a civil ceremony, after all, a signing of a piece of paper. No justice of the peace, no vows. We would save our money for a celebration here in Texas over the holidays, when they will both visit.
We put together a wedding box of something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I sent pictures of dress ideas, she sent pictures of dresses she purchased, finally choosing one in ivory lace. She used her media skills to make a digital announcement, sent to family and friends the weekend before.
Then, just like that, the day was upon us. Actually night, here in Texas, fourteen hours behind Japan. We got before-signing pictures, texts that the process was happening, texts that it was over. They were married, and happy, and excited to start this new chapter of their lives together. They just glow in the after-signing pictures.
Our oldest fledgling has begun making her own nest.
Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Shirakawa. We can't wait to celebrate with them!
Twenty years have passed since I wandered through a neonatal intensive care unit. And now I get to visit again, every Saturday morning.
Yesterday I switched volunteering roles, trading in my newborn nursery blue scrub top for a lavender one worn by NICU rockers. Then I was escorted upstairs to a place familiar, yet not, passing my daughter's picture in the hallway along the way.
The old unit was smaller, located right next to the old newborn nursery. I was a parent there for sixty-five days, and an employee for three years. It was overcrowded if they had more than thirty or so babies. The new unit was built after both of my NICU rounds, and has sixty-four beds. The night before my daughter came home, I roomed in with her next door to other newborn moms; the new unit has three built-in overnight rooms. Everything is self-contained now; there's even a tiny pharmacy in the middle, catering to the specialized pharmaceutical doses for babies who often barely tip a pound on the scales.
The layout is new, but the ambiance is the same. It still feels like a world apart, this place with dimmed lights, machines helping babies breathe and eat, every baby attached to at least one or two monitoring leads. But there are colorful blankets at each bed; some even have cameras for long-distance parents to have visual access to their child. The doctors and nurses are focused on their tiny patients, yet cheerful. For a unit dealing with serious medical care, the mood is nurturing and positive.
And the smiles are the same. One of my daughter's doctors was there yesterday, and several of the nurses who either took care of her or worked with me--or both. This is amazing when you consider the time that has passed. My daughter will turn twenty-six this year; there are staff members who are at the thirty-year mark and beyond.
I got some hugs yesterday, too. I found out that my charge nurse on Saturdays is one of my former coworkers, so there will be a lot of catching up to do. And then I get to walk the NICU bays again, this time as a volunteer rocker, to help care for these babies with the same love and attention that my own daughter received so many years ago.
Midriff-baring crop tops. Platform shoes. Vertically striped, flowy linen pants. Teeshirts with sayings in groovy fonts. My teen and young adult years are being replayed on the consumer front. I've aged enough to see it--what's old is new again. TV shows and movies of my youth are being remade and celebrated, too.
Maybe it's nostalgia, or just a love of sci-fi, but lately I've been watching old episodes of the various series of "Star Trek". Sometimes I turn to the channel earlier and catch the original series and "Next Generation". Usually I watch "Deep Space Nine" and "Voyager", falling asleep before the opening strains of "Enterprise". Come to think of it--can watching sci-fi be nostalgic, when most of the content is still futuristic?
Here's where my "Star Trek" viewing has changed: I'm now old enough to truly pay attention to the social commentary written into many of the episodes. Topics such as inequity in healthcare based on socioeconomic class; centuries-old rival cultures so acclimatized to battling that they can't see beyond the war; destroying ecosystems to maintain the status quo; predilection for violence, and the argument for rehabilitation versus execution; and, of course, racism--only in the future, it's more species-ism. Greed is often at the root of conflicts-greed for materials, control, domination.
These conflicts occur on other planets, in other star systems. Most of the time, the captain and crew rise above the issues, offering a better future for all involved. Sometimes, the systems are so embedded, the conflicts so raw, that all the crew can do is escape with their own lives, leaving the chaos behind. What's sobering is that these episodes were written decades ago--and we're still trying to solve these problems here on Earth. It's sad to think that I may be too old to ever see the solutions come to fruition in my lifetime. At least on "Star Trek" Earth, we've come to know better and do better in the future.
