It was perfectly heartbreaking; all of it. I remember sitting alone and watching the sun melt into the Thanksgiving waves and I felt peace. I was at peace being alone. At peace digging my toes in the sand. At peace slurping my Cup-O-Noodles. At peace with my anonymity. Mostly the last one. You know how there are people who always needs to be with someone? Always need to call a friend and can't stand spending one night alone watching Bed of Roses for the umpteenth time? That is NOT me. Being alone and anonymous is practically the best thing ever because you can feel how you want to feel and act how you want to act and NOBODY notices.
Now when I travel I'm part of this big caravan. I'm not the girl in the window seat on the plane who puts on her headphones and sleeps the entire flight. I'm the mom with toys and bottles and a poopy diaper in my purse who has an entire game plan for a smooth flight. I'm the woman that girl with the headphones is trying to avoid. Goodbye anonymity.
The first few days in Santa Monica were just for me and Clem to enjoy. Nate had meetings and work to do so I'd put Clemmy in the stroller or baby bjorn and we'd just go on mini adventures. And the thing is, I wasn't anonymous for even a moment. I always got noticed with Clementine. I know people love babies; people LOVE Clementine. A lot. To the point where I couldn't go anywhere without someone tickling her or playing peek-a-boo with her or biting her toes. Yes, I said biting her toes. And it's not their fault, really. It's Clementine's fault. Because she has these eyes that cast a spell on you. She's got eye of newt and dragonfly wings and all sorts of spellbinding concoctions behind those baby-blues and once you look into them you cannot be held responsible for your actions.
|See. I told you.|