The last week of introductions for Self-Portrait Challenge. I feel like I meet myself coming and going every day. I remember leaving the house, coming home, leaving the house, coming home. And I think "Life must be more than this". Today I had doublebooked myself, dental and counseling, a great combo, me with deadened lip, a little drool down the chin (maybe he will up my dose ;)
I was in four accidents and walked away. The first was when I was a little girl of 3 or 4, the first day of swimming. I was too impatient, jumped in the water forgetting my life jacket. I remember being calm, seeing the edge of the pool, the bubbles, tryng to reach the step. I don't know how long I was there, not long I am sure. And them my mom's hand reached in and pulled me out.
The second was when we first moved to Malta. My parents were in Italy on holiday. I was walking home from school and forgetting to look the wrong way for oncoming traffic (they drive on the other side of the road) was hit by a bus. I wet myself, and lots of people were standing around. I was not far from my house. The next thing I was in bed, the doctor being there. Then out of the blue, my parents. My mom said she decided to come home early.
The third again in Malta around age 12, got caught in a terrible undercurrent with my friend Carla while swimming at Ramala Bay. Remember gasping for air and seeing blue sky, then being sucked under again before I could get a breath of air and just seeing churning bubbles. I remember thinking this was the end for me. We were swept onto jagged rocks, we could see our parents at the other end of the beach, just realizing we were gone, out of sight. My mom, who can't swim, running out in the surf. I thought we were very lucky that day.
The fourth was a car accident with a young boyfriend driving. I must have been 16. He had a cobra? or some fast car at the time and was driving too fast down one of those treacherous country roads. We were heading towards a T in the road and I kept telling him to slow down but he did not listen. We were rollling and rolling over, coming to a stop on the top of the car in the middle of a field. Someone there with a hand pulling me out. I had on a mid-drift and slivers of glass were embedded in my stomach. But that was all. We were alive. My parents were in New Orleans on some trip.
I have thought of those times I was sparred from harm or death thinking there must be a purpose for my life.
Food has always been a huge part of our lives. My mom being a great cook. Every meal to be savored. I don't like to go to restaurants because I am always disappointed. I can remember the date, the place of the couple of meals that I consider outstanding. We are spoiled and nutured at our house with mom's wonderful food.
Montmartre: The Quiet Hour
41 minutes ago