Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Taking A Pause with Peanut Butter Breath

Dinner’s done, dishes washed, laundry folded, bed sheets changed.

Jeb’s completed his assigned 15 minutes of silent reading. It’s twenty minutes til bedtime and we still have drills and study for tomorrow’s geography, spelling and math tests.

He’s taking a pause, stretched out on my big bed.

He looks at me and pats beside him, “Mom, just come here for a minute.”

Seeing the hesitation on my face, he says with more earnestness, “Come on, I need this.”

Skeptics may suspect he’s trying to wriggle out of the multiple choice questions about his map of Nebraska. I don’t care. He’s thirty days shy of eight, and Jeb’s not going to be asking to cuddle up with me forever. Maybe I need this too.

I settle in at his side and he wraps his arms around me, throwing one long leg over mine.

We’ve been curling up like this since that first day when he moved from my womb to rest his wet cheek on my heart. All the days and nights. Each time our bodies found this comfort spot between us, familiar and grooved.

Except that his shape just keeps changing. The plump toes that used to graze my belly button, now stretch out towards my ankles. And that koala-bear body I could scoop up with one arm to adhere upon my hip, is sixty-five pounds and gaining. Nowadays, if Jeb falls asleep in the car, I have to wake him and walk him up the stairs.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

He gave up on me fifteen pounds back, but these days even the big guys in his life repeat the mantras.

“You’re getting too big now!”

“You’re heavy, I can’t lift you up anymore!”

“Whoa, you’re getting strong…be careful when you wrestle!”

But tonight, there is no rough house. Tonight Jeb asked for pause with me. He’s sidled up in my arms and as I embrace his frame I am amazed to find him delicate. He seems so small. Long, thin arms are hinged toothpicks. His fingers that trace my forehead, feathers. It feels as if I squeeze him too tightly he could break.

His eyes keenly scan my skin, noticing freckles and a scratch on my shoulder.

I feel the shape and weight of him within my arms. I soak in the delicacy of his boyish precipice. I am entwined in his limbs, these appendages that grew within me, cell by cell. This will all soon disappear.

In this, I am alone. He will never know.

Because I smile the mother’s smile. The one that holds the bittersweet. That we love with all our hearts. Body. Soul. Give to let it grow. One day the children will not need us. And this is what we want.

“Can you choke when you’re learning to swallow vitamins?”

His random question is close to my face. His breath, warm and without boundaries, exhaling peanut butter and honey sandwich across my cheeks. For a moment, I think to turn away, but catch myself.  Then breathe it in a little deeper.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 3 Comments

When the Goddess Washes Up at Your Feet

Already I was feeling prosperous.

At home there was a big pot of vegetable barley soup on the stove. Banana-chocolate-chip-walnut muffins were fresh from the oven. It was a Sunday morning at the beach, with surf that threw waves on the sand, making pools deep enough for Jeb to float (or cannonball).

There was a blue sky with cotton ball clouds, accented by the circling of angelic white, long-tailed Tropic birds. Once in a while they’d swoop low above us.  There was me, and the Bohemian Lover that sat at my side. The bird’s heads moving, quickly scanning us below, clicking calls from their throats, then gliding away.

I hummed a Feist song, “Cicadas and Gulls”, (I’m in the sky, sky, sky, sky…I’m in the sky, sky, sky) while the Bohemian held my thumb, intently removing an old embedded bee stinger with single-pointed thoroughness. And, once removed, kissed the empty space where it had been.

Jeb and his friend were nearby, relocating beach weeds to create a new ecosystem of greenery and pools from a nearby waterfall and stream.

Looking North, there was nothing but ocean and horizon. Waves that never ceased. Our bare skin was warmed in the late October sun.

So when it was time to go home, I was feeling to be a wealthy woman as I left the Lover, the birds, the sun and surf. I was still humming as I gathered the young boys and we began the stroll back to the car.

And then the goddess washed up at my feet.

Well, technically, she was embedded in the sand – just a bit – like any self-respecting buried treasure would be.

Yes, there it was. A golden coin, about 2.5 inches in diameter, peeking up from the wet shoreline. Engraved on one side, was the Hindu goddess Lakshmi (Gaja Lakshmi, to be exact) where she sat upon a lotus flower flanked by elephants and imparting gifts with her four hands. The coin’s other side was carved in Sanskrit in the shape of a bursting sun of light.
Gaja Lakshmi
Jeb was in awe. “It’s gold!”

His friend inched closer to peer at the coin which was now in Jeb’s tight grip.

“We’re rich, Mom! This is gold. It’s worth a million dollars!”

“Mmm…it looks gold. I don’t know if it’s real gold…”

“Don’t say that. No. It is. For real!”

His friend: “Yeah, it looks like real gold…”

We continue walking, the boys side by side, studying the coin, taking in the mystery. I’m smiling, still in the sky, sky, sky, sky…now with even a little more sparkle to the magic I feel.

At day’s end, after soup and muffins, I do a little Lakshmi study:

Gajalakshmi represents prosperity, happiness and luck, and is the Goddess who brought back all the wealth lost by Indra, the King of Devas (demi Gods). The giver of animal wealth like cattle and elephants, Gajalaxmi is the fourth of the eight aspects of Ashtalakshmi, or the eight aspects of the Goddess Laxmi.

Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, happiness and beauty emerged from the ocean of milk when the Gods churned it to produce Amrita (divine nectar) and she at once became Vishnu’s consort. She is pictured as an ideal of slim-waist, full breasted feminine beauty. When she is depicted separately from Vishnu as in this case, she has four hands: in two of them she is holding lotus flowers, while the other two bestow the gifts of well-being and prosperity. Lakshmi is said to reside in sweet-smelling floral garlands which bring fortune and wealth to the wearer. She also has a role as a fertility goddess and is particularly linked to the richness of the soil.
(source:  http://www.goddessgift.net/lakshmi-gajalaksmi-brass-OM-BST156.html)

Wealth comes in so many forms. A healthy body, a bowl of warm soup, the vision of a bird in flight. The look of wonder on my son’s face. A kind man removing a bee sting from my finger.

And if life wants to offer a golden coin from the goddess of prosperity to wash up at my feet, so be it.

For those days when I’m feeling downright in the dumps and desolate, I’ll soak up these reserves. Let it permeate my cells. Fill up with the golden love. Vow to shine it all around.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

The Dead Battery and the Dragonfly

When the key in my ignition turns and there’s no power, I lift my hood to investigate the battery. What I find is a huge dragonfly tucked inside the grill. Dead and dried, but in tact, I show Jeb and tell him I’ll take it as a sign that something magical is happening.

Sure, he thinks it’s magic. He’s got a delay on getting to school this morning and gets some extra time on his skateboard while I call triple A. Still, I can see a little sparkle in his eye at my suggestion. He’s ripe for the supernatural right now – we’re on chapter eight in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

An hour later, I’m jumped and driving. Jeb’s dropped at school and I’m en route to Aloha Transmission and Auto Repair, where a Hawaiian grandfather with white mutton chops has his adult son test my battery. His granddaughter, about two years old, wanders up to me, arms open. Her shirt says “you are my sunshine” and she looks at me as though she’s known me all her life. I move down to her height as she smiles, reaching out to lightly touch my earrings

The battery is officially dead. The alternator tests good. For less than $100, I’ve got a new battery, good for 5 years, and I’m back on the road, only an hour late for my first work appointment.

As I drive my newly charged vehicle, I stretch my mind to the days when I sat around the fire with the fringe-dwellers at Rainbow Gatherings in my twenties. The hippies may have adopted the divination practice, but animal totems are rooted with indigenous people. I don’t know much except for the Animal Medicine cards someone gifted me a few years back. I seem to recall that Dragonfly represented Illusion and the prompting to look beyond what is seen on the surface.

The metaphysical aside, basic entomological facts include a flight speed of about 24 mph, multi-faceted eyes that have nearly a 360 degree view, and a propensity for eating bugs (particularly the pesky ones).

Whatever the meaning, I’m happy to be up and running. Though our battery mishap seems to be the first in a series of strange events involving either our car, Jeb, or both. Two days later, a thief opens our car door and steals Jeb’s school backpack out of the backseat. Nothing valuable, really, but creepy nonetheless. And the next day at school, a younger girl becomes obsessed with Jeb’s bag of Chex mix, rips it from his hand, and when he tries to get it back, she bites him on the finger (no broken skin).

Last night, post-dinner, with the quiet of the evening settling on us both, Jeb reflects on the past few days.

“Mom, you know how you said you think that dragonfly meant something magical was happening? I don’t think it means there’s magic. I think what’s happening is just bad luck.”

I’m not really a ‘bad luck’ believer. Don’t know where he got this concept. But I’m not going to push my magic dogma either.

“Mmmm…” I reply. “I don’t know. I guess it’s all in how you want to look at it. I don’t understand what’s going on with some of these things happening lately. That’s the mystery. But no matter what it all means, I know one thing for sure. That dragonfly is definitely cool.”