You are all so kind – thank you for the notes last week. As we made our third 650 mile round trip in just over three weeks, there was a lot of time spent on a boring stretch of highway trying to keep each other awake. I spent some of that time reading your comments and emails, first to myself, and then aloud to my husband. He wholeheartedly agreed with me – I have some terrific friends, both near and far.
Aside from the big tough things, there has been a never ending bout of small tough things. It seems as if traveling and grieving and the near-constant juggling of commitments were not enough to deal with – every time we turned around, it felt like we were adding an urgent treatment center run, administering antibiotics, picking up sick kids from school. My sister reminded me that right after they brought their son home from the hospital they discovered that a raccoon had somehow fallen into their chimney and managed to get trapped into the space between their bedroom floor and the ceiling below, and no one was able to extract it. (Don’t ask me to explain the logistics of this.) So they tried to sleep with the scampering sounds of a nocturnal (rabid?) creature right below their bed (and the neighboring crib). We all agreed that a crazed raccoon seven years ago was preferable to this whole new level of stress we’ve all been balancing this past month.
But there are always gifts to be found within difficult times. I’ve never really cared for the idea of silver linings (at least in terms of the big tough things). More like the occasional respite from sadness, stress, despair. Spending so much time with my niece in her newborn days is one of them. Watching her big sister dance on the stage is another. We pulled up to the house (again) last night, exhausted, and tried to muster up enough energy to unload the contents of our car in the dark. In, out, in, out, in, out. I feel so behind on everything right now, and so unfocused. But I’m trying not to let it get me down, trying to let go of all the undone things, unpacked things. Breaking down the to do list into manageable chunks, letting go of as much of it as I can. We’ve had practice with this, we can do it again.
Tonight I went to yoga, where I spent the better part of seventy-five minutes on my head. (What?!?) When our instructor explained what we were going to be working on, I looked at her like she was crazy. And then, step by step, slowly, there I was. Everything swimming around in my brain disappeared – or perhaps it just leaked out of my head onto the floor. Regardless, it was just what I needed – a new perspective, as corny as I realize that sounds. I came home, heated up my dinner, and laughed with E over her seventh grade stories until my sides hurt.
Things are going to be okay.