Quiet busy week culminating in last night’s movie night at Randall School. Julia’s school. Last responsibility of the PTO social calendar. I showed Howl’s Moving Castle, a Miyazaki film, my favorite. 50 kids and their grownups attended. We served popcorn and lemonade, and we had a very last minute addition of a student council bake sale. It was the first time that we did it at Randall and the first time we showed a less than totally commercial film. Watching all those kids and all those grownups sitting in silent attention, laughing at the subtle jokes, and enjoying the happy ending warmed my heart. Bringing a new film maker to people’s attention is the reason I started this event -- well, one reason. I also wanted to start a tradition of community events which were smaller than our big dance and carnival. Today, I am pretty self satisfied.
And happy to check the responsibility off my list.
Rainy day. Gray. Quiet. I slept with the window open even though it is a bit cold to do so. Warm quilt and this morning sitting with David’s lap shawl over my shoulders as I tap away. Perfect weather for today. Schedule: Julia’s therapy and I will sort a few more year’s memories, afternoon movie, probably The Pirates, FUS where I am reading the welcome today, and home to supper and some playing of Super Mario Wii game.
Two very large burdens fell off my shoulders on Monday and only now do I feel comfortable crowing about them. The Bloomfield house, the remaining asset in my mother’s estate, closed on Monday. The estate remains open and work, mostly my lawyer’s work, needs to be done, but all of the estate, every penny is sitting in the bank. And in the bank I don’t need to worry about the oil spill or insurance or taxes or the water bill. It happened on Monday late afternoon and as close as Monday morning, we -- lawyer, realtor, and myself -- were not sure it would happen. Every mishap and side-step that could happen did and I’ve weathered every bump in the road. And now, even though the estate is not yet closed, the light at the end of the tunnel is visible. I woke up on Tuesday feeling the lightness of a floating thing -- a speck of dust, a feather, something so light that it is lifted by the wind and carried with ease.
Strangely enough, on the same day, I went through the last box of basement stuff, the last of the photos and pictures. It was only when I was finished with the box that I felt the wild synchronicity of the day. Two projects, both of which will need further work, but the tunnels of completion formed. Solid now. Perfectly reachable goals. So many metaphors here.
Wondering whether lying fallow includes a break from writing every day. Possible. I have been using my time to chip away at the mental list of next things and have been falling exhausted into my bed at night. I long to be out in the garden but it has been too cool to be comfortable and work outside right now would delay completion of my stated tasks. And completion is what I am all about this week. So, I welcome the rain, clear directions on how to spend my day.
I hear Julia turning pages. I have to get her up and ready for therapy this morning but how I love to hear her immediate reach for a book when she wakes up on her own. They are doing a standardized test next week in class. Julia gets many accommodations for testing, when she is included in testing which is optional for special ed students in our district. One accommodation is extra time and so she started the test this last week. Her teacher reported that she is taking the test much more seriously than ever before. She is paying attention to it and working at finding answers. This doesn’t mean that the answers are correct but it is more progress, a subtle development that does not necessarily show in scores. It is a building block and we, Julia’s team, is quick to notice when those blocks begin to fall into place.
Finally, this week I found out that I am losing my lead therapist and one of my line therapists. The line has been with us since Julia began therapy. The lead came one last year. I love both of these young women and I will miss our weekly encounters so much, but both of them feel it is time to move on. And I have to agree. There are horizons to aim for and some other take on the work that they need to find. Oh, leaving is so hard. Missing is hard. Moving on to the new is not easy. Over and over, this is what fills my days.
I face the wind. Wonder about tomorrow. Embrace the changes.
Or give it a good try.