Freedom

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Photography: 4th of July

You-ou-ou, you got the right
Stand up for yourself, we’ve just begun to fight
Ain’t no way we’re going back in time
Forward to the future baby, yours and mine
—RuPaul, American

It’s not easy to love America right now, yet I’m tired of those seeking to destroy freedom while disguising it as patriotism. If you haven’t heard the RuPaul song “American,” go listen. It’s the energy I brought into the holiday yesterday. It’s how I fight back.

I attended a local 4th of July parade in the morning with my daughter, her best friend, my sweet nephew, his dad, my goddaughter, and her family. It was terribly hot, but it felt nice to just smile and wave for a bit. Sometimes we fight and sometimes we rest. Let me know if you have a favorite image and have a great week.

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  • All photos were taken by me using an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.

At the end of the night, we drove to watch the big fireworks show. We couldn’t find a place to park and drove around in circles for over an hour. I was about to give up when the show started and all the cars stopped. We happened to be stopped RIGHT where the fireworks were being set off. Life can be so hard, but it can also be unexpectedly wonderful.

Here’s a grainy screenshot from a video my daughter’s best friend took.
Look how close we are!
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Poetry: Starfish

clinging to rocks with five arms
the starfish thrives under the sea
bounded by thick seaweed forests
and surrounded by free creatures
living complex underwater dramas
and grasping tightly for survival

diving under I hold my own survival 
like a bawling baby tight within strong arms
made tough by fighting external dramas
created through daring the churning sea
of man to see me worthy among creatures;
equal to those hiding within its dark forests

with wide womanly hips, I dance in forests
singing of my own truth, my own survival 
while being told I’m weak among creatures,
unworthy of spinning with wide open arms
spread like wings deep into the sea
of truth you’ve churned into polity dramas

you try and create new elaborate dramas 
within the shadowy, political forests
telling me my body floating in the sea
isn’t worthy of fighting for its own survival;
instead, you must tie my wide-spread arms
behind me like all wild and crazy creatures

for you know better, you zealot savage creatures
bent on pushing single-minded dramas
held in your pure, pious, and holy arms;
while I must run into the dangerous forests
without protection, fighting for survival
in your newly created shark-infested sea

with wide breaststrokes, I swim out to sea
feeling one with the wild salty creatures
who know the sacred truths of survival;
watching breezy seaweed dramas
dance before me in underwater forests,
hugging myself tightly with loving arms

the tempestuous sea hosts maddened dramas 
of all God’s creatures within wavy seaweed forests
filled with starfish arms reaching toward survival

untie my sweet womanly arms as I float in the sea
or dance in forests with its many feral creatures;
let me control the myriad dramas of my own survival

After spending a few days at the ocean I wrote this sestina to process what’s happening to woman’s rights in this country and ready myself to fight back. I’m not interested in debating the issue and any comments attempting to do so will be removed.

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Just call me ‘one-eyed mommy’

I can’t really see out of my left eye.

Never have.

Never will.

It’s not a huge deal. Used to suck that I couldn’t see 3D movies, but the technology changed and now I can. Turns out I wasn’t missing much.

I’m lucky that my eye tracks, looks fairly normal and doesn’t bother me. I can tell when I look in the mirror and in photographs of myself, but it’s not super noticeable.

Not really a big deal.

Well, it wasn’t a big deal.

Last month my driver’s license came up for renewal. I haven’t been into the DMV since my teen years, just always renewed online. This time they required me to come in. Super annoying, but that’s bureaucracy.

After failing the eye exam with my bum eye, as I knew I would, the lady says I need to get my eye doctor to fill out a special form that allows me to drive. I did that years ago, but they have no record of it. Another annoyance, but I smile and move forward.

After all, I am a ridiculous rule follower at heart and I know how to play the game. Smile. Nod. Jump through the hoops.

I drop the form off for my doctor and wait the 7-10 days it takes for it to be filled out. Once ready, I pick up the form, wait for just under an hour at the DMV with my kids in tow, and finally hand it over.

“Not good enough,” the woman says without looking up.

“Excuse me?” I say with a smile.

Clearly I heard her wrong.

“We are going to need you to take a behind the wheel test,” she says. She follows this with a big exhausted sigh.

“Say that again?” I say.

She finally looks up and explains that for “people like you we need proof that you are a safe driver.” I make an appointment to come back in two weeks to prove I can drive with one eye.

“Might have to give you a provisional license.”

“Might need you to take the test every time you renew now.”

Tears come and I am pissed. I swallow hard and brush them away. Don’t cry Bridgette. Don’t make a scene. It’s not her fault.

“The DMV is black and white,” she says. “I’m sorry. There is no gray area.”

I look in her eyes and decide she probably is sorry. Her job sucks, but in that moment I don’t care. I want to smash her face.

I gather my form up and walk to the car. The second the van door shuts I start to sob. Big, holy shit sobs.

What the fuck am I going to do if they take my license?

“Mommy, are you OK?” my girl says from the backseat. “I’ve never seen you this upset.”

“No,” I said. “I am not. I will be, but right now I am upset.”

She unbuckles her seatbelt and touches my shoulder. My boy follows her example. We sit there like that for a few minutes, me sobbing while my children comfort me.

Eventually I snap to it, wipe away my tears and move forward. I think we got ice cream.

It’s been almost two weeks and my test is tomorrow.

I am not good.

My anxiety is at Threat Level Orange, and I’m really not being nice to anyone in my path today.

It is completely ridiculous.

Ludicrous.

Of course it’s going to be OK. I know how to drive. I’m certainly a better driver than when I was 16. I have nothing to worry about.

Yet…

The fear is so great that I’m finding it hard to move today. I want to crawl back in bed and sob into my pillow and it really has nothing to do with the actual test.

It has everything to do with losing my freedom.

My entire ability to care for my family is wrapped up in my car. We live 25 minutes from school. We live 20 minutes away from my nearest friend. Without wheels I am trapped.

No car=no life.

I know that seems melodramatic. It is.

But I’m scared to death of going blind and being dependent on others.

I don’t like to ask people for help. I don’t want someone having to help me with anything. Ever.

So tomorrow is a big deal for me.

And then there is my grandma Kate.

I keep flashing to the day we had to take my grandmother’s license away. She was in her late 80s and had started having dementia. She had got lost several times and drove onto a curb. It wasn’t safe for her to drive anymore. I knew it. She knew it. But actually going through with taking away her car was horrible.

I still remember her crying.

She knew that was the end of her freedom.

She knew it meant she had to rely on someone to do everything for her now.

She knew it meant defeat.

I felt her pain then, but I feel it even more now. I keep seeing that look on her face and I want to go back in time and hug her even tighter. I want to hold her and say, “I love you grandma. I’m sorry.”

I was in my 20s at the time and I was exhausted at taking care of her. I was frustrated that she wouldn’t see that she was being unsafe and selfish. I became impatient with her. I tried to understand, but how could I?

Getting old sucks.

Losing your freedom at any age sucks.

I think about friends I have right now that have to rely on others to do things for them either because they are battling cancer or because they have a disability. I think about how much freedom they have lost and I feel like an ass, a selfish and stupid ass.

Even so, I’m still scared shitless about tomorrow.

My husband suggested going in whistling, “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”

Not likely.

A friend suggested dressing and acting like a teenager from the 90s.

That would be fun, but I’m too chicken.

Oh, I got it!

When the fear starts to grip me, I’m going to remember this picture of my crazy, pirate of a son.

piratecooper

“Me eyes….oh not me eyes!!”

Yes. That will do.