Places of grace

No shortage of struggle this last little while. We all finished our coursework, and wait for grades.

Elder has had some unexpected bad luck with an unfortunate encounter with our Christmas tree and got a lacerated cornea for his troubles. A lot of things remain unresolved and undone. Our house looks like the transition we’re all in. Frankly, as a collective, we’re a mess.

The tree remains half decorated since the eye encounter. I have 3 weeks before the next assault, I mean, semester, and don’t know where to start. So I will start small; chocolate dipped strawberries and pumpkin bread. I wrapped two gifts for a party tonight. 

I noticed a bag next to the tree and peered in. It is filled with gifts and cards for elder from his bingo peeps. And tears sprang to my eyes because there is space for grace for him; he does have people who are not mom and dad who love him. We may not see them, but they exist.

These are the first happy tears in a while.

Disconnect

 I’m coming to the end of my semester, and it could go either way.

I had a little enlightenment come my way this week; in one of my waking dream segments of getting my (almost done) social justice project in order, I had a flash of insight into a relationship I’d put on hold while I untangled my thoughts, feelings, and baggage. Suddenly, it was all laid out in front of me from that person’s perspective.

I kind of think that this was a mom moment; she’s had a way of finishing the unfinished the last few months. There is peace as well as sadness, and a measure of compassion. 

I might close this with a card. I don’t know yet.

Back to the project, then hopefully this time next week everything will be done, for better or worse. 

And whatever it is, it is.

Dreaming into reality

 So the ancestors aren’t going to let me go.

A ton of inflection points these last 3 months surrounded my first semester in 3 decades. I’ve ugly cried at least a half dozen times and said I was done at least twice that.

But I’m not allowed to be done; not until I do whatever it is I am meant to do.

Earlier in the semester, I spun my wheels over a segment of a project for the better part of a week until my piece came together, literally all of a piece, in my dreams. And that presentation was a slam dunk.

So this morning when I was half awake, my final project for one class laid itself out for me. I’m sketching it out and it is taking shape. And dovetailing nicely with my final paper in the other class.

I will finish, and whatever will be, will be.

I have some things to say

 I’m feeling some things, so here we go:

My kids say they have dinner handled. They are almost 25 and 21,  so whatever that looks like, it’s theirs. I’m eating a salad because it makes me happy.

I really don’t know how this semester is going to pan out. I don’t care. I will show up and do the work.

I have done all I know how to do. Some things are phasing out, but that’s okay. It’s not quitting if it’s not serving you.

I’m grateful for the stuff that’s going right. And the people that make it happen.

Mom saw this coming

My mom called herself an ostrich; she said she stuck her head in the sand at the first sign of trouble. In the months before she died, she expressed her fears about climate change and this election. I think she had an idea of how bad it was going to get, because she was intentional about her exit from this world.

She was done, so she allowed it when pneumonia took over.

I find myself grieving and mourning in fragments over different things; I feel overwhelmingly sad that she died alone, even though she was in her favorite place in her favorite chair. My niece made up her bed, because the unfinished business was disturbing. Before all this mom mourned the departure of her health, never quite right after COVD, her back causing her pain. When she came out to my car last December with a cane, my heart stopped. Mom was officially old, and the clock was ticking.

That’s the last time elder saw her, well, alive.

So I’m sitting here grieving a bit before getting down to business on my final projects for the semester. Part of me wonders what’s the point, and the other part of me tells me to get ready, there’s work to do.

Mom didn’t want to be here for it, but I am, and the only way is through.

Forty minutes

 It’s been a fraught little while.

There’s just a lot, lately. Today it all spilled over. As it will.

Elder’s been sick, and getting him the necessary care has been a little more complicated than it should have been. Nevertheless, he eventually got what he needed and is recovering.

We helped him with his medication and left for our respective destinations. He went back to sleep. I had left my personal phone in my purse while I attended a meeting. When I returned, it was time for elder to be at work.

Except…the usual notification from his service letting me know he was on his way was missing. I took my phone outside and started dialing. 

He usually picks up maybe the second or third go-round. Ten minutes had passed, and he still hadn’t picked up.

Trying to contain my mounting panic, I called hubby, who talked me off my ledge. Next I called his job and explained circumstances. His co-worker was calm and polite. Then I resumed dialing, alternating between his cell and our landline.

At some point the tears started again. What if he didn’t wake up? I kept dialing. Hanging up. Dialing. Hubby texted me he was headed home to check on him.

I finally gave up 40 minutes in. And less than a minute after my last attempt, elder finally returned my call.

I started sobbing all over again, this time with relief at hearing his voice. The irritation he had at being sick turned into concern. “Mom, I’m fine, I was just lying on my good ear.”

I called hubby back and told him he could go back to work; elder was up.

I pulled myself together and went back to my desk.

*******************

Coming home, tears welled up again. I remembered something I hadn’t thought about in decades. My dad was still alive, because we girls were still in the back bedroom. I was going through a cupboard in the basement, looking at Halloween costumes. For some reason, this was forbidden, because my younger sister saw what I was doing and said she was telling on me. 

I think I had been on a tear of bad behavior because getting told on AGAIN scared me enough to run up to my bedroom and hide under my bed. I heard my siblings running around looking for me, and at one point, feet passed inches from my face. I lay still, which was no mean feat for me. There was a toy under the bed; I played with it while I pondered whether or not I should come out from my hiding place. Eventually, I dozed off.

When I woke up, the shadows were long across the bedroom. It was quiet. I wondered where everyone went. I crawled out from under the bed and wandered through the house. I eventually found my mom in the basement, crouched low, looking through the cupboard that got me into trouble in the first place. I touched my mom’s shoulder. She spun around and grabbed me, sobbing, asking where I went.

I guess I felt a little like elder did earlier today.

I also felt relieved that I wasn’t going to get punished.

Lots of things running full circle.

Right Now is Good

 I’m painfully aware of the fact that nothing stays the same forever, but I just wanted to note for my own posterity that life was good. Right now, this moment in time, is a good one. I love my job and the people I work with; I love my class work and cohort and enjoy the process; I love my family, and that’s not news; I love my tribe, and that’s not news, either.

The fall colors are spectacular this year; I enjoy the companionship of my birds, and I love what I’m doing, all of it.

Grateful. Wouldn’t change a thing in this moment.