almost there

Only 14 days until we begin a new chapter. I am only too ready to leave behind the sharp and painful memories that reside here. Granted leaving this place won't eliminate those memories, but it will put some much needed distance between them and myself.

strange days

Valentine's Day brought some unexpected happenings for the very youngest of the Harris Girls. While playing around on the trampoline waiting for Valentine's dinner, there was what seemed to be a minor accident. Dylan brought in the Hay, wailing and snot flying. I sat her down and checked her out as mom's are wont to do. She seemed fine. We had dinner, and while she ate almost nothing (typical), she did her usual jamming of dinner into whatever she happens to be drinking (very typical).

Bedtime came early, but sleep did not last. That night was spent with Hayden crying out and/or sobbing in her sleep. By about 3 am, I am convinced there is something wrong. I barely get the big kids off to school and call the doctor as soon as they open. The appointment set, I spend the morning with a very lethargic 2 year old (atypical).

At the appointment, x rays revealed that Hayden's tibia and fibula had been cleanly broken distally. I was shocked to leave the appointment with nothing more than a referral for an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon for this afternoon. No wraps. No splints. Nothing. Just instructions, "Don't let the leg hang; it will cause more pain and injure the area further.". Perfect!

pieces

The material pieces of our lives are not us. They may be reminiscent of us or help tell others how we perceive ourselves, but they are not us. The letting go of these possessions does not mean we are discarding loved ones. Our loved ones live in our hearts and our minds and our actions. They are there behind our eyes waiting for us to reminisce with them and laugh with them and even cry a little too. But things like clothing and cars and yes, even houses, those are just things. Our loved ones travel with us, no matter where the rest of our lives take us.

floundering

Just over two months since Mitchell's passing. It's strange how time seems to drag and yet fly by all at the same time. I still can't let go of those last moments. They continue to haunt me, blind-siding me in quiet moments.

The world outside continues on. It seems they barely recall that just a short time ago he was here. Outsiders offer "help". Everyone seems to have advice, opinions about how best to proceed. People who think they know how we feel like to give me helpful hints. I try to avoid these good Samaritans, but they've got radar and hone in on my signal.