I was born on March 9, 1991 at 5:32 in the morning. I turn 25 in 6 days. Dylan's mom has been looking into my chart. She seems delighted every time she tells me more about it. I feel glad to have an interesting chart and grateful to hear the things she's learned. She says that both Dylan and I have Chiron in Pisces, which means that we "work stuff out through understanding our roots, our families, both of origin and the ones we make."
Hearing it that way, I can't think of a more beautiful analysis of my work. But in practice lately, it is irritating and confusing, hard to watch and sometimes I think even harder to read about. This is how I plan to entertain people?
I brought a second draft to workshop last week. The new story is about a girl who tries to conserve water by draining the washing machine into a bucket. Really it is about a girl who accidentally destroys all of her father's books. Really it is about my parents. The workshop instructor, Jacqueline Baker, asked me what it's about. I said it was about a child trying to rescue her father. She said, Then make him someone in need of rescuing. I said, Can't you see that he already is?
My parents haven't talked with each other for over a year. My mom, recovering from brain surgery and a stroke, just moved into her own apartment for the first time in over 25 years. She can't drive anymore; I'm buying her white Chevrolet Malibu, which I have already christened Blanche. My dad is taking care of the kids, trying to single-parent. He says he's doing fine, but I'm worried for him. For a long time, I was the only one who was talking to everyone. I had managed to avoid taking sides. Now I don't know. I'd like to wash my hands of it. Instead, I keep getting dragged into stories about it.
My Oma's sister died this week. Dylan and I got back from California to the news. More surprisingly, a text from my mom asking if I was home safe yet. I am better at writing about my family of origin than I am trying to be a part of them. My mom wants to take me for tea on my birthday. I can't imagine what it must be like to have a child who has become a grown woman you don't know, unless it's like suddenly realizing you have a real live mother.