My mother is a quirky woman. Eccentric. Her favorite bands are Kid Rock and AC/DC. She can’t send a text message without spelling something wrong. And she’s had the song Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah stuck in her head for over 25 years.

 

Because she was born on July 22nd, her favorite number is 22. Every time she sees it, she points it out in an excited, high-pitched tone. “Look! Twenty-two!”

 

My mother is also a spiritual woman — though I’m not sure if she’d claim so herself. When her mother died, she noticed a crow sitting on her back porch every day for months. Curious, she googled its meaning and sent me a screenshot. Coming across a single crow may mean a deceased loved one is trying to comfort you.

 

“You think it’s Grandma Paula?” she asked. I’d like to believe it was.

 

The only number she likes more than 22 is 222. An “angel number” representing alignment. When you see it, it means you’re on your path (or so they say). When my mom sees it, she points it out in an even higher-pitched tone, going up a whole octave by the time she gets to the end. “Look! Two two two!”

 

I’ve usually written off my mom’s quirks — shaken my head, rolled my eyes. Until I spent a year in the depths of my own transformation. Molting. Wrestling with my darkness without knowing who would win. It was the hardest, most uncertain period of my life. I started seeing 22s everywhere.

 

Liz came to visit me in LA, and I told her all about it. How I saw 22 on every license plate, time stamp, and shampoo bottle. Were they placed there from the other side or was I going mad? Was I receiving encouragement or just clamoring to find it?

 

Later that day we sat at a red light. A young woman in a bowler hat caught both of our attention when she floated down the crosswalk in front of us. She looked peculiar. Like she was from another decade. Like she was up to something. When she arrived across the street, she pulled out a spray paint can and tagged a construction wall with big pink letters: 222. And then she walked away.

 

“Are you kidding me?!” I shouted. “She could’ve written fucking anything!!”

 

A huge sign or a huge coincidence. Who would make the call?

 

A few months later, my sister Brooklyn set a date for her wedding: Friday, December 22nd. I flew home to Florida for the ceremony. It was beautiful. Healing. For many years I carried guilt about moving so far away from my family. Sad that I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me. For my entire twenties, my greatest fears involved my loved ones dying before I got a chance to really show up for them — to really be with them. By the end of the night, I realized that none of those fears had come true.

 

Back in LA, I spent a Saturday driving around by myself. It was the beginning of a new year. I had new perspective. New hope. Somewhere in the Arts District, I got a call from Brooklyn. “Are you parked?” I wasn’t, but I told her I was. Just as I got the words out, an image came through to my phone. An ultrasound. She was pregnant.

 

“I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING!” I screamed through the tears.

 

“You can’t tell anyone!” she said. “I haven’t told anyone else in our family yet!”

 

Brooklyn is having a baby, I thought. Wow. I tried to imagine the future that was about to unfold. The uncle I wanted to be. I gave the ultrasound a long, hard look. At the top of the image I noticed a date. January 22nd. I shook my head. Of course.

 

My sister is a modest woman. Not one for big spectacles. So when it came to a gender reveal, she opted for intimate. On a Thursday evening, she and her husband Jared sat on a park blanket and cut into a small Publix cake. When they pulled the slice away, the inside was blue. “Oh shit,” Brooklyn said, laughing. My mom was there to capture the moment.

 

When it was all said and done, my mother sent me a text. “My video of The baby gender was 22 seconds. Brooklyns video was 2 minutes 22 seconds.. Weird”

 

“Really weird,” I said, though I was no longer questioning the numbers or their meaning. They sure as hell meant something to me.

 

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A few things I’m thankful for:

- A sweet weekend with Liz in Santa Fe

- Meeting new people with OCD

- Change

 

 

Pop culture things I’m thinking about:

- Season 2 of Love On The Spectrum 😭😭😭

- Extraordinary is a cute lil British Hulu show

- If this isn’t your favorite song on TTPD, I’m sorry!!! (This weekend I also started really digging into the Anthology and I’m quite liking “The Bolter” and “I Hate It Here”)

- Miss Dula Peep coming tonight!!!

 

 

A random journal entry:

4.14.22

I do not wish to grow in a single direction. I wish to expand in all directions.

 

 

A random thought:

Lately I’ve been thinking about how the master of the elements begins as a novice.

 

Also, something I just noticed watching Love on the Spectrum — More often than not, the first question they ask on a date is “What are your hobbies?” Seems like a fun alternative to “What do you do?”

 

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Thanks for reading :) Talk again soon.