Affirmation for the Florida Manifesto

The stars have aligned and the migratory paths of the North American birds have shifted to prove my point. Minor exaggeration, but here is a fabulous story to illustrate my Florida Manifesto, nonetheless. Blue Light Special - Aisle 8 - It’s true.

Today my beautiful partner finally told her ex-husband’s aunt about our relationship. (This is the pause for you to get clear in your head what the relationships are. Do not proceed until you have it straight. I swear the pun is unintended.) She, my great love, has always been really close with the aunt. By “close”, I mean that they use the words, “Best Friend” to describe each other. By “close”, I mean that Dawn chose Happy to help her birth her daughter. By “close”, I mean that Happy will have the thickest chapter in our book honoring great women in our lives. Dawn’s folks still don’t know about us, and Dawn doesn’t care. They are little more than replaceable players in this production.

But telling Happy has been an undertaking, a script in near constant vision and revision. The love that Dawn and Happy share is important enough and big enough to be cemented with nothing but truth. Dawn struggled with how to tell her and grieved for the loss she feared she may suffer. But fear not! Happy showed herself true blue. Happy confessed that she had always suspected that we were in love, way back when we were clearly oblivious to the fact. She admitted to sitting back and waiting for it all to be revealed. She professed love and acceptance and the willingness to press the rest of the family towards good tidings for Dawn. For her part, Dawn was totally affirmed and relieved and jubilant.

Just when Dawn thought her conversation couldn’t get better, Happy said, “I‘m going to tell you something that I never told you before. Do you remember that I had a baby that died?” Dawn reminded her that, of course, she remembered the story of her first baby girl. Happy said, “But I never told you the name of the baby’s father.” Dawn thought about it and agreed that no, Happy had not shared his name. Happy took a deep breath and said, “His name is William Ray.”
I know it seems incredibly anti-climatic to you at this point. The mind-blowing truth is that William and Ray are the names of MY children, the ones that I grew and pushed from MY body, before I ever knew Dawn and WAY before I knew Happy. She has known my boys for years now, but held this precious secret until today.

Dawn caught her breath and said, “That means something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s really something.” Happy confidently replied, “It means they are my nephews, and I love them.”

Florida

Again, I'm just so damned pleased with my blog. I don't think I've felt this way since I finally figured out how to keep my newborn son's pee in the diaper. (Strategic wing-wang placement, incidentally.) I still don't think anyone but me is reading it, but I've figured out that I don't mind so much. Yet.

Today I'm giddy about the National Geographic POD. (It took me WAY too long to figure that abbreviation out yesterday.) It's a photo of an alligator in the everglades, just down the road, you know. I think that's a good sign. Second day on the blogging wagon and already a vote of confidence from the local reptiles.

I do this. I take encouragement from ridiculous happenings and coincidences (Blasphemy! It's Meant to Be!) I also revel in silver linings, minuscule though they may be. For instance, if I mistakenly get a Sprite instead of my coveted Diet Coke in a drive-thru line, I will mourn the loss of the Diet and stick the Sprite in the fridge. Later when one of my kids throws up in the middle of the floor of my galley kitchen (speaking of minuscule), I'll reach in and triumphantly pull out the Sprite to settle his or her belly. I'll tell everyone that I know about the good fortune of a mis-delivered beverage. I'll secretly take it as a sign that God/the Fates/the Kennedys are on my side.

So shine on, Sunshine State! I'm going to need all the help I can get!