I am feeling a little bit...unexpectedly... whole.... yeah, whole... today.
I was surprised to look away from my journaling and tea to see that there is a (literal) big black dog curled up on my bed. He reminds me that it had been awhile since Starry was able to be on my bed with me, and that little blue dog on the bed was always such a marker of everything-is-okay to me. Newdog represents a wholeness that had gone before my beloved blue girl died.
There is a trepidation in my heart about twelve-yr-old B being at his dad's today, a place he normally outright refuses to go. I recognized that he was less fussed about the notion today than he was a couple of weeks ago about going to a music class, and that was reassuring. Somehow this nervousness on his behalf just feels normal, like that terrible Mary Geddes print someone gave us when he was a baby that said parenting means accepting that your heart will forevermore walk around independently of you. Forever more.
Bruce Cockburn is asking me what I would do differently if this was the last day of the world, and this is a Halcyon song for me, because it stuck in my head that morning, that we would do nothing differently if this was a live birth instead, not even feel any more pride at our beautiful little one. His coming up on the playlist, set to random, feels like an appropriate amount of neverbaby cycling in and out of my days.
It has apparently been awhile since I felt quite whole and correct. Nice to have a Sunday like that.
I was surprised to look away from my journaling and tea to see that there is a (literal) big black dog curled up on my bed. He reminds me that it had been awhile since Starry was able to be on my bed with me, and that little blue dog on the bed was always such a marker of everything-is-okay to me. Newdog represents a wholeness that had gone before my beloved blue girl died.
There is a trepidation in my heart about twelve-yr-old B being at his dad's today, a place he normally outright refuses to go. I recognized that he was less fussed about the notion today than he was a couple of weeks ago about going to a music class, and that was reassuring. Somehow this nervousness on his behalf just feels normal, like that terrible Mary Geddes print someone gave us when he was a baby that said parenting means accepting that your heart will forevermore walk around independently of you. Forever more.
Bruce Cockburn is asking me what I would do differently if this was the last day of the world, and this is a Halcyon song for me, because it stuck in my head that morning, that we would do nothing differently if this was a live birth instead, not even feel any more pride at our beautiful little one. His coming up on the playlist, set to random, feels like an appropriate amount of neverbaby cycling in and out of my days.
It has apparently been awhile since I felt quite whole and correct. Nice to have a Sunday like that.