that tone is too ridiculous to continue.
I was a sewing dervish. Had my own room, no tv, didn't carry my phone, was fed, didn't have to clean up anything, was poured coffee and brought snacks as I worked, or within 10 feet of my work. One morning I woke up early and decided to just 'go on up' at 6:30, to find that there was hot coffee and four other women ahead of me, quilting in pajamas.
The women I was sitting with were sisters, all 3 of them quilters with experience and I was mildly in love with them. There was laughter all weekend...
It was the perfect situation for me with my hearing... all the social awkwardness was taken away because i was just as focused as anybody else - on a whirring machine which precludes conversation.
I missed my kids and hubsJ fleetingly, but not painfully, because I was so fixated.... I missed my husband tenderly while having a large male masseuse rub my hands during a chair massage on Saturday. Even typing it feels sortof soft porn-like. pbbst. My hubsj does have many good points, and his sheer physicality is one of them. I didn't even go to my room after meals, just 'back to the grind'.... lovely. i read a little bit of an Audrey Hepburn autobiography, which I have been wanting to do FOREVER. and it was crap. but i did learn what i was looking to learn. so there.
In the last hour of the drive home, my mother and I talked about our grief processes. I worry so much, now that a year without my dad is finishing up, about her deep loneliness for him. . . and her frailty and anxieties seem to be growing... and I have my own worries for myself and this life i have had for such a long time. and what is so difficult for me, in a way, is the realization - or i don't even know if 'realization' is right... the recognition that the only way through is to keep plodding on. while i may feel like lying down in the middle of the driveway after putting the kids on the bus, and it would be fine if i did that... eventually, i have to get myself up... i do. nobody is coming to rescue, or even to give a hand up. ( maybe if i were literally there still when the bus got back, i imagine the kids or the busdriver might give me a hand up, but i don't think i'll wait to experience that particular thing..) I find it is something that I have to re-learn time and time again, and maybe it is so strong right now because I've lost my faith, and my father all in one, and the startle of it is what makes it so 'truthy' .
I'm heavy with the plodding these days, and I am looking for more. MOOORE. MOWER.
Maybe i'm looking for a landscaper? pbt.