What is that word of which you speak?
How many times have we heard the term "new normal" when we are faced with a life change? I can't even begin to count...
In an attempt to take a little time for myself, here I am, sitting in my computer chair trying to write. It's like a homework assignment, in which I have no idea what subject I'm supposed to be learning. It's like plucking stray thoughts that were once organized (to me at least) and had purpose, and trying to assemble them into something I think I'd like to share, something I think you'd like to read.
And I'm sure I've failed.
I can't candy coat it and dip it in molten chocolate, hoping to cover up all the flaws and bitterness (of which there are plenty). I can't send out a glossy invitation and purchase themed items in which to transform the situation (party) into something so far from what it really is that you hardly recognize it.
I can't hide.
It is what it is.
This is my life and these are my words. My MIL is still here (obviously) and I'm doing my best to search and reach and locate the tools and resources needed to help her - and it takes every last bit of energy that I have. In the meantime, I had a meltdown last week, a major one. The kind where you find yourself in your mother's arms sobbing the sobs that make it hard to breathe.
"This is so hard." I said.
"I know." She said.
The sun warmed our faces as we walked and walked and walked, only stopping to pick up after the dog, who had (and always does, as dogs do) business to do once the fresh air registered in his brain.
"You need to do this as much as you can." She said.
"I know." I said.
The sun. The walk. The air.
These are things in large supply these days, even if the rest of my reserves are falling short. Although I was grumbling about our uncharacteristic Northwest winter weather (sunny and warm), I now am grateful. Grateful for the warm. Grateful for the calm. Grateful for the sun that streams in between my wooden blinds in the living room each morning broadcasting to all the amount of dust that is gathering there and the job that must be done...
But there is time for that later, I have a train to catch.
A train with one pair of tennis shoes, one 12 year old boy, one dog, one leash and 2 large doggie pick-up bags.
And the sun, let's not forget the sun.
That dust can wait.
Thank you mom.