Shadows and Rainbows

 Long before there was Limontella - there was just a boy and girl who met at a Search firm in Boston.  And, years later, just like with my husband, it was, well, meeting just felt right. She was the first person who made me say "I love you," out loud, because replying "me, too." wasn't good enough. So, when I moved to San Francisco, she deserved something special because I wanted to let her know what she meant to me. After all these years, I'd forgotten I had written this until she recently sent it to me. How amazing that I was in her wedding and last year, her husband was the one to marry me and mine. There's been a lot of rainbows with her over the years. I wish you all a friendship as strong and comforting as this.  

We have no idea who the one in the middle is. I guess we had groupies?

I

A SHADOW AND A RAINBOW

I've met many people in my life. Some have remained shadows,

silhouetted against the hallways of my life, never daring to enter my world. I've stood illuminated in their entrances, but their

doors have remained shut.

So, I have often dimmed my light. Why

brighten an empty hallway?

Many people in my life have come and gone. They've exited at the first turn and I was left to drive alone. There have been tough turns along that road: accidents, yields, sunshine and rain.

I've weathered every storm. Seems the sunny skies were never far away, just hidden behind the clouds.

The people in my life. What a strange and diverse crowd.

I resist letting them in, afraid they'll douse my light. But once in a while I see a small shadow. Slowly, I open the door and my light escapes.

The shadow disappears and someone new is standing

in my doorway.

One day, I met a not so silent shadow. It lingered near my

doorway, as if it had been against many before and been turned away.

It seemed to tremble. What an insecure shadow. Maybe it's

been down the same road I have traveled. Survived similar storms, never finding a rainbow. Maybe it needed one, maybe it needed mine.

Shadows in my life; they have no faces, they have no names.

They disappear too quickly and I turn away•

This one yelled her name. Let her inside I thought, she certainly wants to come in.

I opened the door, my light poured forth, and there in my doorway stood Dawn

 

There are many people in my life that have ceased to be shadows

They are my rainbows with a pot of gold. And one piece is named Dawn. Can you see how it glitters?

Can you see how it shines?

When it starts to fade, I make it shimmer. When it sparkles, it makes me smile.

A shadow no longer, she became my rainbow, filling the sky with her brilliance. As the dawn brings the sun to the sky, its namesake brings the shine to my life.

I won't dare let it go,

the night is already too long before it breaks.

So, if you notice a shadow lingering outside your door, give

it light. Let it in. To the world I say, shed light upon the shadows, but find your own rainbow. This one, with all her charm, beauty, and gold, belongs to me.

I opened my door and she came in.

How very lucky I am. Why?

She chose to stay.

It's Been Some Time

Life as Jim and James has taken quite a turn since I last blogged on this site, having spent most of my time on limontella.com. Managing two blogs, I tend to forget about one of them, but when I do remember, and re-read things I've written, it's a nice trip down memory lane. So many changes in life, so many moves, so many dramatic events that have occurred in just a few years. The one constant that never changes, though, is me. My location has shifted, my relationship status has morphed into something no one could have predicted, but my thoughts continue to blend together like a protein shake being torpedoed in a Vitamix.

These days, I've been home recovering from hernia surgery and let's just say, it hasn't been the most pleasant of experiences. I've known since my Los Angeles days that I had one, but my doctor there never made a big deal out of it. In fact, he told me not to worry about it. That always sounded strange to me because of course, I always thought of it. Having one of your internal organs poking through a hole in your abdominal wall is just not a good image.

So, after visiting my no nonsense San Antonio doctor this year and the discovery of a second hernia on my left side, I decided, it was time to fix it all. Of course, it all had to wait until after my honeymoon in Paris.

"Don't get married," the surgeon said as he firmly and forcibly poked my naval area looking for a third hernia. "Where there's two, there's usually three."

"Oh, too late," I replied, grateful that the final number of hernias was capped at two. "We're going to Paris for our honeymoon this summer."

The doctor smiled slightly and told me to have a good time but not to wait to get the hernias fixed. I wasn't exactly looking forward to surgery, I mean, who really can say they do? The last time I was under anesthesia was back in 2004 when I was turning 40 and needed a tonsillectomy. I had a different life then. Living in San Francisco, no serious relationship, friends that were part of my circle, and most importantly, my mom was still with me.

And, of course, it's July - the month I lost my mom four years ago, and that always makes me reflective. Add that to being on painkillers and attempting to sit and stand on my own, and it's been a hell of a post honeymoon. Before the anesthesiologist put me under, we were talking about our mutual love of a Mexican restaurant in town and the potent margaritas they concoct. Next thing I knew I was saying hi multiple times to my husband John - and when I mention multiple times, I mean MULTIPLE times.

The pain hadn't hit me yet, but as I slowly tried to fully wake up, it wasn't long until it made its presence known. Getting the opioids to make the pain go away, though was the best part of my day. 

I'm quite the sight to behold these days. I've finally stopped looking six months pregnant, which is probably a good thing since I live in Texas now and that could cause some serious issues if I'm seen out in public. I haven't however, lost all the baby weight so as I sit here and pop more tramadol, I can't help but review life.

Coming off an incredible two weeks in France to have my abdomen laparoscopied  was something I was anticipating but it doesn't make the recovery any easier. Writing helps clear my head, thinking of my life now and how John is here to help me recuperate is something out of storybook, but I somehow feel useless as I maneuver from couch to bed, clinging onto walls and furniture so I don't find myself on our new tiled floors like I was in a bad 80's 911 commercial. From the minute I landed in San Antonio, life has been different. And, that's different in a good way. I told my good friend, Holli, that when I left Los Angeles I was finally running towards something and not from it. That has never wavered. 

Yet, I don't think John was prepared for what kind of patient I am. After all, when I was younger and living in Boston, my mom would come to my apartment, cook me breakfast and lunch and make my bed for me. She'd sit for hours before she went back home. No matter if I am sick or not, one thing John does not do is make the bed. 

So here I sit in a newly remodeled house, listing to the continuing construction in the back of the house as we add more square footage - unable to really put the place together since I'm forbidden to lift anything over three pounds. For the next two weeks, until I am fully mobile, I will try and think of what's next. My career isn't what it used to be, but my life is better. Sometimes I think that's a good trade off, while other times I wonder what did all those years working where I did accomplish?

I'll admit I was a bit nervous going under the anesthesia. What if I didn't wake up? Would I even know I never did? I most likely pushed that out my mind and just concentrated on having that margarita. You face mortality every day, but especially when events happen like losing your mother and going to sleep while a doctor you've met only once cuts you open and fixes what's broken. Oh yes, and then there's that shooting incident that I tend to make light of because no one likes to talk about it.  Of course, I'm happy to say, life continues with all of its questions. Hopefully, I'll find some answers. One thing for sure is that I'm still not well enough to have tequila, but you can bet that when I am, I will be having more than one.