Twenty Months

by Ashley Weeks Cart

Twenty months ago I was planning my September 2008 wedding.

Twenty months ago I was living in a beach bungalow in Ventura, California.

Twenty months ago I was mother to one furry black dog.

Twenty months ago I was babysitting, blending smoothies, and starting up Green Eyed Monster.

Twenty months ago I spent my days cruising on my beach bike, surfing poorly, and consuming appalling amounts of carne asada and Tecate at a place aptly named Tacos & Beer.

Things have happened in twenty months.

Today, I am married.

Today, I am mother to a near-1-year old baby girl, and TWO furry black dogs.

Today, I am employed in the standard 9-5 sense, with the title “Director” proceeding my job description.

Today, I live in the mountains of Massachusetts.

Today, I am a Master. Whatever the hell that means.

What I do know is that it felt good, cathartic, and damn redemptive to walk that stage in Los Angeles on Friday to receive my degree.

I wrote my thesis about Feminist Maternal Performance Art – for obvious reasons – and I believe that walking across that stage was indeed an act of feminist maternal performance art. Despite all the pressure, and commentary, and negative energy that I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t be a mother and receive my degree, I proved *them* wrong, and then some.

During my time in Southern California I lived in fear of “The Big One.” The Sunday evening of May 17, 2009, a year ago today, the earth literally shook as I braced myself through a contraction. While it was just a mere blip on the Richter Scale, for me that night in fact marked The Big One; that life altering, ground shifting, world changing crack in my life’s core when Addison fought and tussled her way into our lives. This past Friday evening, the night following my graduation ceremony, the earth moved again,  another marker of the momentous series of events that have taken place in just a twenty month span.

While my family in the east stayed on their respective coast, I am exceedingly grateful to my west coast family for being with me to experience the tremor.