The Rhythm Finally Got Her

Part I

Finally, there was no one else around to bug us, to pull her away from me, or interrupt my export of love to my Madre Dearest. No brothers, no pesky sister, and especially no crazy husband were present to limit our time, pull her away, or intrude on said love export/import/exchange.

You know Mommas need to feel love right back and sometimes we forget that part. Some of them even need healing of their own. I know mine does and has been getting it here in Palm Motha’ Fuckin Springs, just like I did/do.

My mom finally said she doesn’t care if people know she is here. And to that I say, “About fucking time!” She’s a newly single woman with untapped and silenced potential within her little Mexican mommy hands and doesn’t have to answer to NO FUCKIN BODY!” Let the silenced potential scream out loud!

I tell her what I’ve told or would tell any of you folks of a mature age. You aren’t dead yet! You still have breath in that body and your spirit is alive and eager to thrive. I can see it in those eyes. So, what is this next chapter going to be? What are you going to write in those blank pages of tomorrow? Do you want to learn something new?

Clarifying question, what was it that you used to love back when you were young? Back before life, a husband or wife, children, poverty, racism, and/or bigotry cock blocked your potential? Do you want to date anyone? Cause if I’ve learned anything at all out here, old motha’ tuckers still love to have sex, watch sex, and long for touch, sex, and love. (And no it’s not necessary to have all of the above at the same time and no there’s nothing at all wrong with that.)

Old people also love nipple play, just ask Rhonda Rae. She loves a good nipple suction thingy ma’bobber. And so do so many of you… just cause your old doesn’t mean that you need to crawl into the grave while there’s still life in your eyes. So how do I ask my own mom, “Ummm, do you want to find some chon-chon?”

We are sexual beings (well most of us) and you deserve love and can admire a sexy human at any age. Is your next chapter going to be the best one yet? I hope that it is, and that YOU chase your happy until you catch it, love it, and possibly do some nipple play with it.

I think my mom has been testing the waters, the desert sands, or “fairy dust” as she calls it, just to make sure that it’s a safe place to dream out loud. One morning she looked out at the patio and began to gather shimmery specks of sand which she put under magnifying glass (yes, she has one of those in her purse) to see if it was actually small pieces of metal (as she assumed). I’ve never thought to look at the sand up close and I can’t deny that it didn’t look shiny like metal does.

My Madre Dearest has also commented about the vibe here. She’s noticed that time moves at a slower pace here and the attitude of many Palm Springsians, PSrs, or Palm Springers (not sure what the actual term is yet) is different. She commented that people don’t seem to be in a hurry here. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, “Try showing up to a senior’s dinner party 15 minutes late. That’ll make you rush.” Old People Time (OPT) is kinda like Colored People Time (CPT_, or Social Worker’s Time (SWT)- that’s another blog post for sure.

“People don’t seem to be rushing in the stores or restaurants. Everyone is taking their time.” Which ya’ll should be! You’ve lived this long through various pandemics -take your time and enjoy the rest of your life. You are a survivor, just like my mom is. She’s definitely a domestic violence survivor along with being a survivor of many burdens placed on her and other people that grew up as the children of migrant farm workers. She’s a survivor- just like you and just like me.

I’ve been happy to find her on multiple occasions enjoying the quietness of nature on the back patio; to include the plants, hummingbirds, a little water fountain, and learning how to paint while enjoying the warm delicious weather.

I’ve also witnessed her over feeding my dogs while she was feeling the rhythm from the music of Vicente Fernandez; on more than one occasion. So much so that she’s been dancing, singing and even belting out EL GRITO! I see that she’s allowing the rhythm to finally catch her and it’s about fucking time.

PART II

When my mom arrived here, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I think that Covid strained many of my familial relationships (probably could be another post about that too). I was happy to have her come for a visit and was intrigued at the unknown possibilities. I thought I wanted to make sure she had a good time so that she would want to come back. I love my mom and I do want her around me.

When she arrived, it was evident she was heartbroken. She’d been in a one-sided marriage for over 50 years, and it took catching him cheating with a younger woman for her to reevaluate the marriage. Even after that, she wanted to work it out and tried. My dad, being the DV expert that he is, separated her from her children and they moved into a little trailer in Texas about a year before I came to PS.

They lived there and went back and forth from UT to TX; until one day my dad brought my mom back to Utah and dropped her off with my brother; where she was living until she came for a visit.

It was the lack of care for her after dropping her off (unannounced) that made her finally come to her senses and file for divorce. (There’s so much more unsaid- as there always is with DV). She’s been trying to figure out where she fits into this world, without a husband and people to take care of. Now that her grandchildren are almost all grown up and have jobs of their own, she felt unseen. She felt lonely and “invisible.” (Just like so many of you do too). And the truth is that’s not any family member’s fault- we all have bills, jobs, and people pulling us in different directions. It’s a new and different phase of life for her and she was visibly unsteady on her feet.

Being the social worker that I am I asked her over and over about her feelings. I wanted to know how she felt about the divorce and having to go back to court after she felt secure in the judge’s order that she got the house and some money for alimony. I could see the heartache in her eyes.

I’m in a privileged position, just by the nature of my job people open up to me and share their deepest traumas, secrets, worries, and fears. Sometimes I get them to start thinking about their deepest dreams, hopes, wonders and figuring out what makes them happy too. That’s where the magic happens.

What is it that is going to get you? Is it rhythm? Writing? Volunteering? Painting? What is it that makes you happy? Let’s figure that out.. and then let’s get you some running shoes so that you can chase after it.

One night we sat down to eat the steaks I bought to celebrate her being here, being single, and being free. I asked her how come she stayed so long. She replied, “I was too afraid to leave.” To which I said, “I would have been too afraid to stay.” This got us both crying.

I told her that she shouldn’t be sad about the divorce because this is a celebratory moment. We began to work on the way she was viewing the divorce, and it started a road to healing. The steaks were way too big and so were the wine pours, but about halfway through them and I turned on Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, “Cheek to Cheek.” I extended my hand, wiped my tears and hers, and we danced a few songs in my living room with my dogs watching us like we were crazy.

“Now, Momma, dance with me….”

I kept trying to dip her and myself in all the wrong places. I said, “See, the rhythm gotcha and missed me. You’re not too old to let the rhythm catch you lady.”

After a couple of songs, we sat down to finish the wine. “So, what makes you happy Mom?” “What was the last thing that made you happy before you got married?” I remembered that she always loved to draw. “Maybe you should learn how to paint? Want to?” She smiled.