Sunday, July 10, 2011

Mama Kitty

If you know me at all, you know that there is one person in the world for whom I would do anything, give anything, fight anyone anywhere anytime, my daughter Bridgete.  And you know that I live in Portland Oregon and she lives in Boston (well technically Quincy) Massachusetts. And you know that I hate it most of the time, but I accept that it is the way things have to be right now. Until something happens like last night.
My phone rings and I hear the strains of Van the Man Morrison singing Brown Eyed Girl - our song.  Bridgete and I have a informational urgency structure.  We need to communicate something, but an answer isn't necessary or at least not right away - email.  We need to communicate and an answer or response is needed, but not urgent - text message.  We need to communicate NOW - phone.  Lately, the phone has been good stuff.  I wanted to hear your voice or I needed to laugh with you or something really great has happened.  So I answered quickly. 
There is nothing more painful as a parent than to hear your child sobbing on the end of the phone.  And I didn't know what had happened, but I knew that this wasn't a car accident, heartbreak, sob.  This was serious.  Her apartment building was in flames and she didn't know where her cat was.  Marcelo was at work, so he was safe, but her precious Severus was in that building, scared and in danger.  She felt helpless and I felt even more so. 
She had another call coming in so she hung up on me and I fell to my knees in tears.  This is pure emotion here people.  There is no logic in what I have been thinking, feeling, doing for the past 14 hours or so.  I cannot do a damn thing to help here.  Nothing.  No resources I can throw at the problem.  No swooping in and finding the cat and being the best mom on the planet.  No hero.  And my mama kitty is mad and frustrated and pacing back and forth in fury.  I try to keep my head about me.  Try to think of anything I can do, any way I can raise money to help them out, any ideas I can offer.  But I got nothing. 
I miss my daughter more than you can possibly imagine.  I haven't seen her in 6 months and it may be another 6 months before I see her again.  I've never gone that long without hugging her in her entire life.  And right now that's all I want to do.  Hug her and tell her that I love her the most.  And then I love her more.