Normal--Medium--Max

I've promised myself that I'll be more normal after midterm break. In the meantime, every one is just so kind. I worry that I'm failing to thank people in time and they'll think I'm taking them for granted... but also I know my people and they are all about extending grace. Friends who are close by continue to hold me up; friends who are far away have started on Round #2 of cards and things...

And I received an unusual and generous gift certificate to a medium from a friend who just had her own first highly successful visit herself. I never even thought of approaching one, but now preparing for my appointment (as yet unbooked) is all I can think of. If I have a worry, it's that I won't hear from my mom or Scout OR that I will and then I'll be addicted.

Pic: Max (barely visible here) is the best right now. He really wants nothing from me except my presence... not even my attention or awareness.

not alone

a mild day for a grim pilgrimage

the light spread thin as sleep 

over a dream in which

no one has died 

an empty day 

a safe day

in the fold

of the next one

falling unremarked--

a pebble in the current-- 

hoping you will be called 

by your childhood name again 

__________

Pic: Water fowl on the Red Cedar; from my walk yesterday.
 

every crack I see...

The only thing that comforts me on some level is being able to take myself off on long, almost punishing walks... It's a luxury reserved for days when I have the time. Then when I do I always feel a pang of anguish for a dear friend who also enjoys walks but can't right now because of a mysterious health condition. Hearing her describe herself as being "scared" breaks my heart a bit more every time I think of it (every day).

Another friend suffered extensive burns last week in a freakish accident and I can't imagine how traumatic the pain, memories, and recovery will be. Or how challenging it will be to parent and not hug or cuddle.

And all this is just exacerbating my already existing anxiety about how we might not know it, but disaster might be just around the corner. Ugh.

I was superstitious enough to never step on any cracks but now I don't have to care. Like the lyrics in "Nothing Compares to You," "I can do whatever I want." I could step on every crack, if I wanted.

Pic: A giant sack of laundry and all my lovely, loving kids. My human kids kindly descended on me this weekend to wrap me in hugs and cuddles and marathon sessions of the Criterion Channel and Never Have I Ever. 

creep

Things keep creeping up on me...

I thought book club was next week, it was yesterday. 

I thought I was doing a Zoom poetry reading for an event at Agnes Scott College on the 27th of October... nope; it was today. I managed to show up on time Zoom ready (silk blouse on top, tracksuit bottoms) and read ok, I think (at least from the kind comments people shared). 

Our Grand Canyon trip is next week. I don't know if I'm ready for this trip I've waited for all my life.

Pic: A screenshot of the reading from the organizer.

three weeks...

Today felt strange... a committee that usually meets every Friday cancelled a couple of meetings and met for the first time since the day I heard the news about Amma. It made me uneasy and it took me a long time to find my voice. 

And because I was already mourning At's ex when this happened, it feels like grief is escalating. On some level, I fear more is coming my way.

In my body I am silent. I hurt and now I'm constantly nauseous. 

So far, the only place I feel like myself is in the classroom. And student services. (By the end of the weekend, I'll have fulfilled my beginning-of-term obligations as advisor to three of four organizations. Or so I hope.)

here's to the mums

I'm guilty of trying to find signs everywhere right now. The cardinals and the namesake (whom Suzanne poetically called "kindness with your mother's name") are lovely.

Not so lovely that the local indie hardware store sign made me tear up a block before I got to work.

Their sign currently reads: "Mums are here. More in rear." 

For some reason this prosaic rhyme made me think for an instant that all the mums* were in the store and if I didn't see mine right away, I could expect to find her in the back. 

(I didn't grow up American, so grew up saying "mum" not "mom.")

Pic: I took this as an excuse to treat myself to some huge mums for the front porch. 

thunderbolts and lightning

J wrote in the comments that when she lost her mom, she felt outraged that the rest of the world continued on... that she was surprised the mail continued to be delivered. I feel that.

This thing feels like being struck by lightning repeatedly. There was a lightning strike in the neighborhood in the afternoon yesterday and it gave L a nosebleed, woke A from his post call nap, and did something to our circuit breakers.

Big A texted to say we didn't have water, and I was so blasé about it... like quite unconcerned. It's as if I'm already in a private apocalypse of my own, so of course I expect that things like water and electricity are going to fail...

The emergency plumber came out late last night and fixed it in under half an hour. 

Pic: L's photo of the strike next door.