Dark Side of the Moon

Monday, September 6

Sleep is supposed to be a time of restoration and escape. But for the last eight months, it’s been nothing but horrific nightmares for me. My stuffed Moomintroll is of no use. Here’s last night’s fare:

Hmmm, actually, it’s all too terrifying to immortalize here. Well, how about just the 1:00 a.m. episode?

I’d been entrusted with the care of several unruly children ranging in age from two to twelve, plus a bunch of their pets, including a poodle, two guinea pigs and a rat. One or another kept getting away from me and wandering into danger. My duty, apparently, was to take them back to their families, and the only way to do so was in a borrowed 18-wheeler, which of course I had no idea how to operate. Still, I tried. Though it was nighttime (when I can no longer see the road) and raining hard, it needed to be done.

I finally managed to corral the kids and pets and get them loaded onto the truck bed somehow, and started to drive off. Within seconds I discovered I couldn’t reach the foot brake. My precious cargo and I careened down the street out of control, narrowly avoiding cars and pedestrians. Miraculously, the truck came to a momentary rest against a curb at a diagonal across the busy street, blocking traffic and infuriating people.

Desperate for help before the semi started rolling downhill again, I pleaded with a nearby trucker—a leering young man with long, greasy, tangled hair—to take over for me. He refused again and again but eventually agreed, but demanded sexual favors in exchange. I was both horrified and amused: “But I’m sixty-seven! I’m way too old!” At last I convinced him to settle for quick buss on his oily, acned cheek. After a long, harrowing drive fraught with mishap and fear, the driver got us to the house of the toddler boy. His parents emerged and started to thank me for his safe return… until we all realized that the child had gone missing, as had a couple of their beloved pets.

And so on.

The nocturnal saga from the previous night featured a ring of murderers creeping through a grand hotel and offing random people with poisons, knives and guns. I tried to stop them while trying to avoid being killed myself. I watched with horror as one maniac in a sequined ball gown cut the cable on an elevator full of screaming passengers, and then heard it crash to the ground.

I hate my brain.

• • • • •

I left for Chico before 9:00 and greeted my dear Chico Five by noon. As the kids intermittently watched some kind of TV movie about the “Loud Family,” I remarked on certain similarities in volume between the two households. In Eleni’s case, three little children, three dogs, a cat and two hungry frogs create an impressive symphony of sound. Also impressive was Jason’s thorough vacuuming job of the bedroom prior to my arrival.

Ember was somewhat reserved and often glued to Eleni. Jesse happily showed me the myriad contents of his room. Ruby bounced, rocked and grinned. The day’s big adventure was when I took the older two to the Starbuck’s drive-through for something called “cake pops”: little pink icing-ed treats-on-a-stick, in the shape of foxes. Glad I wasn’t driving a semi and that I didn’t misplace either of my charges.

In the late afternoon I got ready to leave with Ember for our AirBnB, our ritual for almost three years now. To my astonishment, she resisted going with me. She wanted to stay at home with her mom. But once in the car and then settled at “The Jungle Bungalow,” she was completely fine. The consumption of our spaghetti dinner was delayed by her long-awaited loss of a loose tooth! Bedtime was the usual bounce-a-thon with lots of talking about her favorite holiday (Halloween) and, at her request, my slew of stories about my own related memories from days of yore. She’s desperate to go trick-or-treating this year but, as in 2020, the virus will prevent her.

It was, as always, a joy to be with her.

Tuesday, September 7

Ack: last night’s “resting” brain brought me, among other pleasures, a giant horde of wasps swarming my house, persistently attacking my grandkids, my friends and me. I did all I could to battle them but the more I killed, the more there were.

Ember awoke to the offering of the Tooth Fairy who, lacking any one-dollar bills, left a fiver (to account for inflation).

The day’s big adventure, after our return to her parents’ house, was a trip to a creek in nearby Bidwell Park.

Because of Covid, it was Ruby’s first-ever trip out into the world, aside from to the doctor.

(Unfortunately, all of my pictures of Eleni and Jason came out blurry or otherwise funky.)

By mid-afternoon, Ember once again started to express her reluctance to leave her family for the night. After some negotiation we agreed that she would indeed join me at least for a while, since I’d brought her favorite dinner (salmon) and there was too much for me to eat alone.

Our sleepover tradition has been the source of great pleasure to both of us for a few years and, as I’ve mentioned, never once has she been hesitant about being away from her parents. Ironically, until our recent camping trip we’ve had the opposite experience: Ember has missed me profoundly and painfully after every departure. It’s been awful. Many’s the time she’s told me amidst sobs, “I just want to be with you.”

Of course it is wonderful that she has stopped suffering so badly over our separation, but baffling that she no longer wants to spend one-on-one time with me. I don’t know if Covid isolation with her family unit has played a part in this transformation, or what.

On our return to our lodging, we had a heart-to-heart. Since she is more a woman of action than words, she didn’t know how to express what’s going on with her, except to say that she no longer wanted to see me so much, and prefers to remain at her house rather than to stay with me.

I was scheduled to come visit again next week, but she asked me not to. After verifying several times that she really meant that, I canceled my AirBnB reservation. I won’t inflict myself upon the poor child. She did still want me there for her October birthday, but said she might not want to stay with me.

Later, she barely touched her special dinner and renewed her chant about wanting to go home. But in the end, after a great deal of negotiation, Eleni and I decided it was best for her to honor the original plan to stay this time. Once that decision was made, Em was fine. At bedtime we had our usual reading time (Abel’s Island), bouncing, endless discussions, and a few cuddles before she dropped off to sleep.

I’ve always fully expected her to tire of our overnights in a few years once she reached her preteen years, because of having social plans of greater interest. I just never anticipated this. I keep remembering the voicemail she left me just over four years ago, not long after she started spending nights with me.

Times have changed.

Wednesday, September 8

Last night’s dream: I was running through an airport, lost, addled and late, dragging heavy luggage but lacking necessities. I was on my way somewhere but didn’t even know where, or why. I desperately didn’t want to leave, but I felt I had no choice. Adding to my concern was that I hadn’t had time to tell friends and family that I was leaving. There was no one to help me.

This morning I packed up the car, woke a sleepy Ember, returned her to her house and aimed myself south. I arrived in Berkeley in time for my appointment with the periodontist, who unscrewed one of the three implants a bit and asked if I could feel my face again. Nope. She removed the whole thing. Still no improvement. I’ll see her again in a couple days. Boy, do I hope this resolves. I just can’t tell you how unpleasant it feels every second.

At home, I got to pondering about the situation with Ember again. It’s hard for some young (and not-so-young) people to navigate emotional territory and articulate just what’s on their mind, and I got to wondering: since her insistence that I cancel my visit was so unexpected and inexplicable to me, I wanted to be absolutely sure I knew that’s what she meant, before I retreated to lick my wounds. So this afternoon I asked her for clarification: does she not want to see me at all, in which case I’ll definitely respect her wishes, or is she just worried about not having to stay with me? Well, it turns out she’s fine with my visiting. She just doesn’t want to spend the night. Crucial distinction. Still sad for me but much more in the realm of my ability to accept.

So next week’s Chico plans are back on, but with a twist: no little girl to hang out with and talk to into the night. I hope that one day, before she’s a busy teen, this will change. But it may not.