Tonight I'm tired. Endless grading tired. Low colleague and student morale tired. Low energy tired. Tired in the mind, body and spirit. Almost as tired as an Elephant seal Mama after giving birth.
Although I must admit, they seem to handle themselves gracefully. The mother I saw give birth at first just seemed agitated or like she was wanting to roll over to her other side. But then she started undulating her body, and the gulls, knowing what was up, started to gather. Within minutes of first appearing uncomfortable the Mama Elephant Seal gave birth, the gulls ate the after birth and the baby was nursing! The Mama seemed to go right back to napping mode and all were content.
It's mating season for Elephant Seals on the beaches of Ano Nuevo in CA. I love keeping track of the critters natural rhythms were ever I live. Plants, too. In my minds eye I can imagine the West Coast icicle plants blooming and the baby Elephant Seals. I know in a few months the sea otters will be having their babies, too.
Here the Great Horned owls are nesting. The last few nights have been filled with their hoo-hoo-hooing. They used to nest in a dead Oak in front of my house, until the town realized it was dead and hollowed out. The town cut it down over the Christmas vacation, when we as a family where visiting CA for the first time since left. We returned to void in our yard that winter of 2005. The Great Horned Owls keep returning to my yard looking for the tree and always picking a "new" one just inside the Arboretum. They still can't believe the Oak is gone after 10 years. As a creature of habit, myself, I can understand the circling.
We replaced the oak with a pink blossoming Horse Chestnut tree. I'd grown up with one in Bolton, and my then husband, now wasband, had grown up with them in the Netherlands. Anne Frank wrote sweetly about the Horse Chestnut outside her window in the Annex. We planted it in the same spot where the Oak used to be. It has more than doubled in size and I believe it's feeding off the nutrients from the roots of the old Oak.
It's funny how we mark time and the passage of it. Funny how we keep track of seasons and creatures from places we no longer live, but carry with us after spending over a decade living with them. Funny how we carry the weight of lines in books, mating calls, grade point averages and broken promises.
That was the hardest thing to let go after the divorce. The idea of the shared future and the comfort of the shared history. More like the death of a future I thought existed and the release of the history we shared. The present was unpleasant and had been for a very long time. It was time to call the death of the marriage. I just didn't realize how that affected the sense of self as it carried over on a continuum; together and apart, before and after.
Last summer there was a watershed moment when I made peace with that death; the death of my marriage. I'd just swum a 2.5 mile ocean race from Peaks Island to Portland's East End Beach in Maine. My 13yr old son had been my kayak navigator, we were a team for this race. We'd practiced on Walden Pond and in Blue Hill Bay. It was a magical morning. We finished strong and happy.
Afterwards, as it was the wasband's weekend, I had to deliver my son to the wasband. We'd agreed on a point halfway between Portland and Boston; Portsmouth, NH. Also on this trip, because we hadn't socialized due to my crazy school and training schedules leading up to the race, my parent's tagged along for the ride. We arrived at noon, and as we'd been up since 4:30Am and active we ordered brunch. The wasband, new woman and my daughter were late due to traffic.
I won't go into particulars, but I'll just say this; after they arrived and we overlapped, our finishing and them starting their meals, a moment happened where words were spoken that left no doubt in my mind that I'd been absolutely, to the bone, correct to demand a divorce. We'd all attended concerts and performances of the kid's numerous times successfully and the conversation was light and tolerable. But there came that moment when three words confirmed that I had not been one of Great Horned Owls looking for the mighty Oak that wasn't there in our marriage, but rather I was right to realize I'd been the Oak all along.
The day I watched the Elephant Mama give birth to the baby, my wasband, daughter and toddler son stood with me on the dunes of Ano Nuevo. It was the Spring before we left CA in June of 2002. I remember the way the wind and salt breeze felt on my skin that day, and many other mental snapshots of that grey foggy-rolling day trip.
Last April, 2014, my son and I returned to the same beach, as he didn't remember San Fransisco or the Coast. I took the above picture that day. The next day we paddled for 3 hours on Monterey Bay in kayaks looking at the sea lions and following the Mama and Baby Sea Otters. That was the beginning of my son's team training for the race (I'd been swimming laps for months already).
I now realize that the tired Elephant Seal Mama only had her baby/ies around her. The Bulls were out on the island and the young Bulls were practicing sparring in the surf.
As tired as I get, and it's deeply on these sandy shores of Mid-terms, I'm more at peace with myself and my offspring and without any bullies.
(Ano Nuevo State Park April 2014 taken by Moi)
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