We're sitting, sweat-marked, in a tiny sushi joint in the waterfront village by my home. We're next to the fireplace and my cheeks are still flushed from a 90-minute boot camp class that had me leaping Mr.Bean style over yellow pylons and pedaling frantically into nowhere while lying on my back on a perspiration soaked mat. There's a man in a wheelchair in front of us, solo, sipping white wine and flipping through the paper, untouched maki just off to his left. Flickering light washes through the restaurant and the fish tank in the corner swishes, whirs. There is a hand on my left leg and a man attached to it: he's rummaging through the menu.
"Greek rolls? They have feta and onion - there's these Burn In Hell rolls, hot sauce and spicy scallops, let's get those!"
I murmer, either sounds good, and I am looking at the man in front of me, slowly sidling through the classifieds and I think: I hope he doesn't feel alone.
I'm overwhelmed with something that resembles tears but inches toward gratitude. I have just finished a rigorous fitness class in front of others, something I have never contemplated. I'm enjoying sushi. I'm in love, immeasurably, for the first time. I'm doing things I never imagined I would do, could do. I sometimes can't believe this is my life.
***
Every once in a while I'll receive a random comment on a very old entry in a blog post. This weekend I received a comment , a mean one. I don't get many of those, and this one I just deleted, but of course it stuck with me. They always do.
The commenter said that I'd spent far too much time looking for a boyfriend, and not enough time with my boy. These are years, she noted, in the sniffly self-righteous tone reserved for the anonymous, you'll never get back with him.
Sometimes I wish that this blog offered more than just a pinpoint view. I would never, ever sacrifice time with my son for a man. Having a man in our lives, one we both adore, has enhanced and enriched and not taken away. I understand too fiercely that my days with my son are speeding by, rapid fire, and I continue to cherish the spots of time where it's just he and I against the forest.
A Sunday afternoon amble through towering trees, over banana slugs and through giant puddles of doom.
He is such a big, robust boy. He brims with sensitivity, sweetness, and stubborn indignation in equal doses. His athleticism and joie de vivre inspire me everyday.
Indian Arm from the woods above.
***
One last thing, I've tweeted it and mentioned it before but I wanted to remind you again: Kate and I will be having a beverage at Steamworks Pub in Gastown tomorrow night at 8ish. I'm dragging Corey, and Teej, Hilllary, Gwen and Kgrrrl, (and maybe Angella D?) we're excited to see you. Anyone else? Meeting People from the Internet is funner than boot camp, without fail.


