In the last 72 hours I have managed to not do my training, get out of my headspace regarding my mom's house fire, and get back into my headspace regarding my mom's house fire, be drenched by a gorgeous rain, begin creating a DVD to premier to the 5th graders on Friday, do laundry, stave off a cat fight, clean my bathroom, enjoy some FABULOUS Pho Ga (Chicken Pho), avoid the Oscars, and watch the L Word for the first time.
I also am up at this ridiculous time in the morning leaving messages for my old schools seeing if they can somehow dig up photos of myself and my siblings from our attendance there.
I've left phone messages to 5 of my former schools leaving my name, phone number, work email address, and the reason for my inquiry.
It was humbling to call my first elementary school and say that I was a student there 28 years ago.
Strange.
This fire has caused random memories to flash in my head. I am getting flashes of things my mother had in her house that had sentiment for me, let alone for her.
I began an email to send a list of the items I remember from the house and I got really tired itemizing each item. Maybe it was the half box of Jojos from Trader Joe's that I downed while watching mindless television.
Jennifer Beal and company are all very lovely women, but the storyline was rather mundane like a soap opera. Perhaps I just don't get it because I dig the dudes. It was fun mindless pap that I couldn't get my eyes off for 3 hours with my friend Ronnie. We made fun of the plot line when it was weak.
I hate to be so materialistic about the fire thing...
My sister has been my connection to my mother this weekend. She flew down from her law classes in Vermont. Apparently mami got emotional when she saw the rubble the second time 'round on Saturday.
I don't blame her for not wanting to rebuild there. Among her belongings she found a plate, a cork, and a little angel that was in the house. Her washing machine and dryer were squashed like an accordion with only the tops remaining.
Strange.
When she went back to rake through these things on Saturday, the angel was gone. Had it flown, or had looters sifted through my mami's belongings?
The thought of someone taking mami's angel filled me with seething anger.
Thats just a low thing to do and I wish I was there to sift through the ashes. It's very possible that any of her jewelry could be found. She's had many of these necklaces for years...and african head that I remember from when I was a little girl...a name plate in cursive with a little diamond in it...thin gold chains that adorned her neck since I can remember.
I keep on getting flashes in my brain...items that were lost.
All of these eaten by the flames of an insatiable beast of heat and gas and uncontrollable fury...it's amazing.
And yet as I write this, I hear the rain coming down again in the Bay. A soft rain that taps the windows of Michelle and Joe's house. Rocky is sleeping atop the cat tower and Sierra is nestled at my feet.
