Shadows to See Light

The blog has been very quiet lately. It's been an intense month. I haven't quite figured out how to put all of my feelings into words. I may never. 

Work is busy. I took the last two weeks of the month off, and it still isn't enough time to get everything done. Granted, we were on vacation for almost one of the two weeks, so not much was able to get done then. It was a much needed vacation. The kids were able to get away. We had a much more successful flight this time than the first time we flew with kids. I haven't been able to write about that in four years because of how triggered it made me for the longest time. 

My daughter was one. We were flying to see friends moving halfway across the world. It was my first time meeting her two children and her first time meeting my husband and only child (at the time). The flight was delayed so she fell asleep at the airport instead of during takeoff like I had anticipated. Strike one. On the plane, an elderly woman had taken our seats so we sat in the seats across the aisle. I proceeded to wipe down the seats, trays, window area, and then a flight attendant came over. She told us we couldn't sit in the Exit Row with an infant. Of course....of course....and when we told her where our actual seats were, she didn't ask the elderly woman to move, because who does that? It's rude! So instead, the lady sitting in front of us offered to trade her seat with our row. 

So we ended up sitting in different seats than we'd originally purchased, and I did not wipe them down because I was too flustered from all the shifting.

After take-off, I went to give my daughter a sip of her water, completely forgetting that bottles pressurize with the elevation change. Water came shooting out of her bottle through the pop-up straw and splashed some to the people sitting in front of us. The lady completely flipped out that her iPad was splashed with water and almost ruined and basically ruined the rest of the flight for us. Every time after that when I put the tray up or down, she'd turn around and glare. She chatted with the elderly man sitting next to her and he did the same. When I bent down to try and retrieve something from my backpack to calm my child down, he glared because he couldn't stand the pressure for 10 seconds for me to retrieve something. 

At least one of them was Canadian. Canadians are known to be kind and generous and forgiving. Not this one. Canadians are people just like any other nationality and they can be real PITA too. Look at the person. Not the label. 

I was too nice then. I'm also not the fastest thinker when I'm anxious or stressed or under pressure. But if I had the nerve or if it ever happened again, I'd give her a mouthful. 

You think I'm excited about flying with a one year old? You think I wanted to sit behind you on this plane? You think I want the plane to be this squished and the seats so close together that I have to push on the seat in front of me just so I can bend over in a way to retrieve something to try and help your comfort on this plane so my child isn't going nuts or being loud? My daughter feels exactly the same way you do right now. But she's one. You on the other hand are a grown adult who should be able to control feelings and think for someone else. You used to be my daughter's age. What would you do if you saw someone glare at your mother like that? Immaturity is only acceptable when you are not expected to know any better. I think you'd lose to my one year old. 

I'm still triggered thinking about that incident. Sometimes I wish my memory weren't so vivid. 

My kids did really amazing on their plane rides this month. Yes, I have a five and three year old now, so the expectations are a little different, but both of them did really well. The flight there was the best it could have been. Quiet kids. No crying. No screaming. No noise basically. The flight back was a little rougher as my three-year-old was over tired and he cried for a bit. But people were understanding. Nobody said anything or glared or gave us stares. Or maybe they did and I didn't see it, but ignorance is bliss. 

***

We are a family of four. We have a three and five year old. Not too far off. We've gone shopping there many times as a family. I've gone shopping there myself since I was a teenager. I don't think I can ever go back. I couldn't sleep for days after it happened. Two days after, I broke out in hives all over with swollen hands. At first, I thought it was stress. But it kept getting worse. I was on antibiotics that week. After 36 hours, I went to an urgent care to get it looked at. He told me it looked like an allergic reaction to the medication. We switched medication and the rash started to subside. My body returned back to normal, or as normal as I could feel physically. But mentally? It's still there. 

The week after it happened, we ran errands as a family. We went to Old Navy. We went to a mall. We went to a restaurant. At one point, I checked my phone and saw a notification of a message regarding a shooting. I thought it was another one. Then I clicked in and saw it was 6 days old. The immediate panic went away. But the residual feelings did not. They still haven't. 

It actually occurred to me when I was on vacation, I shouldn't feel as afraid walking around in this state. Because their laws were different. I should actually feel safer, more relieved, to be here than I do at home. Isn't that weird? I've never thought in my adult life I'd come across feeling safer somewhere which wasn't where I called home, but I did. And then it hit me. During the year I moved to a different country and lived by myself, never once did I have fears like this. Fears of getting mugged by thieves? Sure. Being abducted? Maybe. But being shot openly in broad daylight doing mundane everyday tasks? Never. 

I was reading about one of the shooting victims who didn't die. He said God had plans for him and that's why he survived the shooting. I'm glad he thinks that way, and I think he should think that way, but what about everyone else who didn't survive? Was that God's plan, too? It is so hard for me as someone who believes in God to answer yes to that question. I don't want to answer yes to that question. I want to kick and scream and yell at God for letting it happen. I have a three year old. 

And then I have to remind myself. Vermeer's painting Girl With a Pearl Earring depicts a young woman with a light-skinned face. I remember the light-skinned face by memory. But Vermeer used dark paint on her face as well. Why is that? 

Her face has a shadow. And we don't know until we see the whole painting. 

Tomato Babies

My mother lived at the new house after we moved for three years before she died. In those three years, there was one season when we went to the store and bought plants. We planted azaleas and gladiolus in the front and tomatoes in the backyard. 

I don't actually remembered what sparked this choice to go purchase plants. I don't remember my mother ever taking care of plants except a pothos plant she'd had since my brother was born. But I remember planting all of these plants. We were just playing really. Nothing actually grew well. The azalea did okay for a few years but didn't thrive. The gladiolus bloomed that first year and never again. 

The tomatoes? Oh the tomatoes...now these I remember vividly.

We planted the tomatoes next to the fence facing south. They received a decent amount of sunlight, and it really wasn't a bad place to tuck some tomato plants and still stay out of the way of the rest of the yard. 

I was in charge of taking care of all the plants. I remember coming home from school in the afternoon everyday and I'd go outside and fill up watering jugs, open the front gate and water the azaleas and the gladiolus in the front. Then I'd go back into the backyard and swap my watering jug for the hose. I'd stretch the hose out and wind it around the backyard to where the tomatoes were. I'd stand there watering the tomatoes and watch water drip off their foliage. 

Then I'd proceed to water the rest of the grass in the backyard and make my way back toward the spigot to turn off the water once I'd sprayed the whole backyard. I would reel the hose and wind it back onto the hose stand nearly before going back inside the house. I enjoyed watering these plants after school. It was fun. I was alone. It was therapeutic.

One afternoon I was poking around the garage and I found my dad's fertilizer. Lawn fertilizer, although I didn't know the difference. Being about 11-12, I understood that fertilizer helped plants grow faster. I also knew I needed to wear gloves handling them as it is a chemical. But I did not know about the correct amount of fertilizer to apply. I did not know that too much fertilizer would turn into poison. I also didn't know that lawn fertilizer should not be applied to garden edibles, but let's not forget how old I was. 

I took small handfuls of the fertilizer and placed them at the base of each tomato plant. Then, I watered it in. We had six tomato plants to start with. Four of them died. The other two sprouted up wildly and became large, untamed tomato plants. I thought it was cool. This tiny little stem of a plant became this large entanglement of stems and leaves and fruit buds. I didn't understand or know the need for a tomato cage or support at the time. Neither did my mother, so we didn't have one. They just....grew. 

I never ate a single tomato off of those tomato plants. It's probably better I didn't anyway because I used lawn fertilizer on a tomato plant. Oops. But I did pick one tomato. I picked it when it was still mostly green and a little red. I picked it because the animals were getting to them and if I wanted to pick a fruit and show myself what I grew, I'd have to get it before it was ripe.  Otherwise, an insect or an invasive mammal would beat me to it. We didn't know to protect the fruits. 

The tomatoes we once grew in my dad's backyard have been long gone. After I realized we weren't going to be eating any tomatoes that year, I cared for it less. Also, the hot summer made it unenjoyable to stand outside and continue watering. Interests changed. Most likely it died in the first frost that winter and didn't return after. Life got busy. 

Now, I grow my own plants. I do not sprinkle lawn fertilizer on my edibles. I support my plants with stakes and cages when needed. I have a soil moisture meter to prevent over and under watering. I pick off bugs on leaves by hand if I see them. This is my third year involved in growing. The first was research and learning from my neighbor who's a master gardener. She shared so many of the fruits of her labor with me. I saved seeds, I researched plants, I studied sun patterns around our house, and I started planning. The second, I tried germinating seeds I'd saved. That was quite an adventure. But late summer, I actually had some harvest. Although not nearly as large or tasty as grocery store peppers, it was satisfying to eat the fruit of my own labor. 

This year, I'm growing peppers from seeds I've saved over the years. I'm also growing some Thai basil from seeds I purchased last year but couldn't get to germinate. The seeds are still good - it was user error why no basil sprouted last year. I managed to get some Genovese basil seeds, saved from my neighbor, to germinate as well. 

But you know what my favorite is? My tomatoes. 

I saw this tomato plant at Costco and could not resist. It was the last tomato plant they had.
The tallest part of the stem had broken off due to mishandling probably, but I knew I could help
with the right care. It has grown beautifully. 

My cherry tomatoes. Cute and sweet, hopefully just like the fruit.

Yes, tomatoes are "easy to grow." Yes, tomatoes grow rather quickly given the right growing conditions. Yes, we eat and cook with a good number of tomatoes. But that's not what makes growing them special. My tomatoes are special because they resurfaced this memory for me after all these years. And it wasn't even that my mother gardened with me and we have memories growing tomatoes together. We didn't. 

But she was the one who said, "Let's grow some tomato plants."

This is 19.