I’ve been having a lot of FEELINGS. The sun has been shining and it has burnt away the numbing patina of the winter blues and left me feeling naked in the swirl of life. A couple of weeks ago we had two family friends die of cancer on the same day. This happened while I was still bandaged and stitched from my own wee cancer. This put things into perspective for me. I am not sick. Nothing has spread. And it scared Finn into silence. I’ve seen him spending more and more time inside his head in the quiet place my hugs and whispers can’t reach. I know my prayers can and the light can, so I whisper to those instead. But I see him sucking his thumb in public and I know the bruise is bone deep.
And LieLie is seeking privacy and distance but also trying to understand how the puzzle pieces fit together and why things feel so fragmented during puberty. She read the entire blog, hours and hours of it, then decided to write on it instead of ban it. I love her words. I hope she writes a million of them. Loud ones and quiet ones and words from the crest of a laugh and words from the bottom of her guts. We are taught to live “in the middle” by the world around us, but it is in the extremes that our core is forged and our soul expands. The things that she has to reach out really far to touch are hers now and not the things I’ve dangled in front of her. Reach out my girl, you are small but you are fierce, in a good way.
And then there were terrorist in France. LieLie is able to talk about it and be sad like a smart 11 year old can. Finn is not. We try to protect him from knowing anything at all, because he is six and life provides plenty of time for worries, but it never works. He hears things and puts them together with images that he does have in his head. Then, because sometimes the world sucks, during free time he makes this card
It is for the victims of 9/11, but he never saw the images, so the tower looks like the Empire State Building and the planes are Japanese Zeros. I’ve tried to tell myself that it is ok for him to have these images in his head. Humans have always killed each other and life has always gone on and there is a lesson in resilience in there somewhere. But he is suppose to be in kindergarten for heavens sake. Terrorist suck and I suck at explaining them to a six year old.
And then there is this guy. His breathing is labored and then the meds work and he plays and loves and then they wear off and his breathing is labored. A circle, like life and like a cat in a bed.
Our search for our dog continues. The crazy man I wrote about a couple of weeks ago was the most delightful dog imaginable in person. Fun and loving but totally incontinent. He will need to be someone’s outside dog. Tears were shed and thumbs were sucked over that fella not coming home. But we will find our dog. I just know he’s out there.
A bright spot in the last week was Gimmie’s birthday!!!!! She turned 65. The official old age in America. I’m glad she’s old! The alternative is unthinkable to me. So to celebrate we had a bowling party with balloons and cake and nachos and friends. Check out her mad bowling moves! She’s still got it!
And now I’m writing this in Finn’s bed, when I should be at a meeting, because we spent the night in the bathroom. A headache so severe that he begged me to go to the hospital and vomiting so violent I thought the hospital might actually be a good idea. But you can only shove so much emotion in before it has to come out somehow. I whispered to him over and over again what Grandma told me about labor “no one can do this but you, no one can help you, but it won’t last forever, you can do anything for a day, and then it will be over”. And she was right and it is over, but we are tired and huddled together under the covers feeling our FEELINGS. They feel a little lighter today.