Happy Birthday, Bug

Seventeen years ago, I was at a little hospital in Laguna Beach with wires and tape and IV drips all around me. I was only twenty-one and just a little scared. The doctor promised me you would be out before his golf game. The delivery proved to be a little more difficult than that.

For the last few years, things have been kinda tough for us. I know I was at fault for a big chunk of how it all started. I was unprepared to be a mom at such a young age. I thought I could handle it all... one day at a time... but you and I know it was a lot more difficult than that.

I was reminded of your sweet Little Girl self so many times earlier this year when we sold the house, packed, and then moved. I walked through every room of that house and pictured all the fun we used to have as a family. I wept for the brokenness of the state of our family and wished for better days. It hurt to know that you never came back to that home... that we couldn't quite make that happen... but then, I thought, maybe in a new environment, maybe some place else, you and I could have a fresh start.

That, too, has proven more difficult than anticipated...

My heart jumped when you wrote to me on my birthday. Your words were so sweet. Thank you. It's been nice communicating with you, at least in some form, however limited. But what I would love more than anything... what I ache for... what I want to do today is to just hug you. To tell you to your face how much I love you and miss you and wish that we had some kind of life together. I wonder how much longer it will be before you and I lay eyes on each other again.

No matter what, please know that I love you and that I wish the best for you every day and send out a prayer for your safety every night.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Happy Birthday, Lori Bug.

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Sixth Grade Promotion, June 2004


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My First Camera

When I was nine, there were two things that were more precious to me than anything: my dorkie, rainbow Mork suspenders and my Polaroid. (I had a closet full of Barbies and all the trappings of her glamourous lifestyle, which, as any self respecting BarbiePhile knows, belong in a completely different category)... anyhoo... ignoring the suspenders...

The Polaroid.

It was a gift from my Nana. I was her favorite. Yep... that was my role. And because of that, I got whatever I wanted for my birthdays. I wasn't a selfish or spoiled child. I understood finances and the limitations of ours and Nana's so I never pushed it. (One year, I got Barry Manilow's Even Now, easily less than ten dollars at the time. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I opened my gift! My whole Mexican family, too, for that matter. They weren't quite sure what to think of my fascination with the CopaCabana guy that seemed a little, well, you know...)

The next year, I got the magical box that spat out photos in an instant. WOW! I KNEW I was special 'cause that was WAY over ten dollars! I had to save for the film by doing, I don't know what... selling avocados?? I can't remember. But save I did. As you could only snap ten images per pack, and again, being a family of modest means (read: butt-ass-poor), I made every shot count. I learned to have a steady hand. I learned to make sure the flash was always ready to go. I posed my friends and family to fit inside the little red square. In short, I was training to be a photographer.

My Nana passed away a little less than nine years ago. I don't miss her temper, but I sure do miss being The Favorite. Now I have to say goodbye to another life marker. Although it was announced a couple of months ago, I was in denial about it. Seriously. Don't laugh. I had a really tough time with the headlines: Polaroid will no longer make the instant camera.

A moment of silence... please...

My Nana planted a seed that I am now reaping the rewards of. What was a fun hobby turned into a passion and is now a means of self support. So before there are no more of the precious pop-up insta-magic boxes and any remaining film cartridges that limit my shooting to ten images, I'll be stocking up.

I'm picturing Elaine and the Sponges.


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