I just saw her again. My street grandma. Long time readers will know what I am talking about. The sometimes panhandling woman who I have talked to for years. I walked up to her today, not intending to give her money (because I didn't have any cash), but intending to ask her if I could get her something. Instead she hands me a dollar straight out of her cup and tells me to get myself a soda. I try to give it back, but she refuses. I say I can't drink soda because I pregnant. And to this, it is as if I am telling my real grandma that I am pregnant. She is so happy for me. So so happy. Her eyes sparkle with tears and I wonder if there is some thing in the world that links all people and lets you speak to those you can't speak to anymore through someone else. In my mind, I see the thin silver line between this woman and my own grandma, miles away in the Alzheimer's unit. And wonder if information can travel this way, from one unknown person to another.

Today, I learn my street grandma's name is Lydia. She wants to know if I know her daughter. I say I don't. She seems fine with that, but tells me to keep an eye out for her. She tells me about the little room on 11th street that her social security pays for. And I am relieved that she isn't homeless. I once again try to give her the dollar back, but she will not have it. We talk about the passengers and she wants to know what we will name them. This begins a ramble about famous queens and czars and things and about the history of Turkey for some reason and I see her mind isn't as clear as I thought it was. I tell her it is lovely to see her, as if we have just had some sort of tea party and she tells me she will be thinking of me.

I get my lunch and add in a bunch of things for her. Some strawberries, an apple and a box of raisins. I want to give her a variety to choose from. But as I exit into the sun, she is gone. I whisper to myself, perhaps she isn't real. But I have a dollar in my wallet to prove it. And I think of visiting my great grandmother when I was little and her sneaking a dollar under the table to me. As I got older, I would try to refuse the money as I did today. It seems that all grandmas are linked somehow, I suppose. And there is this thin line between all people and we are lucky when we can see it. It usually hides from us so.

First entry today: Place past fear

Someone just emailed me about my captain's log on the place past fear. This was my email response:

I remember the first time I got to that place past fear. A friend and I went on the Batwing rollercoaster. No, really. I was flying face down on the rollercoaster, looking at the ground below me, thinking, if I die right now, it is ok. I can't be afraid anymore of anything. I was so quiet. And Brian kept screaming next to me, "Are you ok?" And all the times I was ever afraid in my whole life passed before me. And I thought, this is the place past fear. This is the calm after fear. The fear of being afraid is far worse than the actual fear, ya know? But the calm after you accept the fear is the thing, the strength.

I just remember thinking... this is how I will get through giving birth someday. This is how I will get through whatever life sends me. I will remember this place, flying through the air, looking down at the green green grass and I will tell myself to step right beyond the fear and grab the calm. And to stop being afraid of being afraid.

And now to the less serious part. Someday, I hope to get Jeff on a rollercoaster! Or perhaps my passengers will be little daredevils like me and their dad can stay safely on the ground like the smart person that he is.