The left shoulder of many of my shirts and dresses has baby formula residue chewed directly into the fabric, a remnant of this recent chapter I have been living. Like tonight, when I let go of seeing a film I’ve wanted to see for months because this little shoulder-chewing ten-month-old needed his Granny more than his Granny needed to go see a foreign film in its one-time showing in Bakersfield.
This path to grandparenting is far from the usual, though. It started not in a delivery room, it started on a Los Angeles sidewalk when I literally offered myself up to a stranger: the mother of a little girl with a single braid down her back. The mother of a little girl who is now the mother of the shoulder chewing ten-month-old.
The thing is, you don’t know when fate catapults you into making a life choice which ones will follow you across decades and miles and mishaps and misfortunes into just throwing up your hands and surrendering to what you know is right. It isn’t about bloodlines or inheritances or even promises made and broken or kept.
I was a twenty-five-year-old young professional when this chapter started. I had no children, a husband in law school, a career I enjoyed. I lived in one of Los Angeles’ barrios in an apartment building built in the 1930s in a style I cherished. I might have been thinking about getting pregnant - it was an obsession then - but I certainly wasn’t thinking about the woman I would be in the unfathomable distance of 2014.
I knew this little girl who talked to me from the window of an apartment building next door was yelled at relentlessly by her mother. I knew when she and her mother walked past my apartment. I waited one day for them to walk by and then I threw myself into their path, literally, with the aim of keeping that little girl safe.
There were lots of twists and turns between that sidewalk to my 
formula laced shoulder, but one thing remains consistent. It makes no sense, it is simply the right thing to do in this moment. I’m tired. I’ve had a long day and tomorrow looks like it will be even longer.
Should I be awake writing this?
No and Yes. So I am.
I know if I didn’t, I would toss and turn and fuss until I dragged my tired self out of bed to toss some words on this page.
I've made my share of mistakes. Giving this little boy as much love as I can isn't one of them.
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Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Coming soon - more creativity camps, playgrounds and workshops to grow yourself artistically (and hey, just for fun!)
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© 2014 - Julie Jordan Scott - all rights reserved
This post is a part of the ongoing series for 31 Days challenge. I will be writing 31 blog stories about bold choices and using a bold voice....
I got started on Day 3, so this is only my second story. I hope to be caught up in the next few days or so.
I'm grateful you are reading.
