Spicy Dragons & Dinosaurs

Monday morning. Julia was out at the bus stop on time. I keep waiting for the excitement to fade, and it doesn't. And I smile for another day. Looking forward to the next teacher conference -- the first one to really look forward to expecting some good news. Small gains I can see -- I asked what she was studying in science, and Julia answered "Rock" and paused. And added, "And minerals." I almost don't care if she learned anything about the rocks and minerals, she knows something of what is going on in school.

Of course, I will become interested in exactly what she is learning very soon.

I indulged myself again this morning with extra sleep after the bus left our corner. I am still sleeping in huge gulps. Last night, I woke up a few hours after I had fallen asleep and I was strangely stiff and uncomfortable, as if something had pressed me into the bed. I thought of "heavy sleep." And wondered.

I spoke with my old friend, Jan, last night, and was able to laugh and be a bit concerned about his life. Thank goodness, reciprocal conversation is coming back into my life! He told me I sounded good, better than in a long time. And I realize that I am better than I have been. Sitting in church on Saturday evening, I felt lighter and able to really be with myself without sinking into great sadness. Grief has not been depression, not physical pain life an injury or an illness, but it has been very heavy on my heart. Grief deprived me of so much joy, the kind of optimistic joy that I take totally for granted in my everyday life. I was observing beauty, taking in the joy of others, appreciating kindness and love, but could not feel/ experience/ make it a part of myself.

I wrote a bit ago of the blanket of grief that was moving to the core of my being. Grief still exists on my levels -- a passing remembering of something we did or said and pain, the ache of being so alone, the wish of what I want David to see right now -- but the most painful grief has moved to a very deep place. Grief has been added to the very essence of who I am. And that is really not so bad. Call it a scar, but not really a scar from injury. Like a warrior, I relish this scar because of where and how I received it.

On to homework.