So, life goes on.
We go back to work, do the laundry, slowly realize that there’s no longer a reason to panic when the telephone rings.
One day, Jesse’s mom points out to me that he’s been gone longer than he was here.
The timelines don’t make sense. He was only here for a moment. He was here as far back as I can remember.
I know this confusion is only a tiny fraction of the trauma and disorientation his parents are experiencing.
I’d like to end this post with some sudden sighting of a ray of sunshine, with a symbol or a moment or a morning of new hope. But, I don’t think it works that way in real life. I think the path to recovery is jagged, whether the injury has been small or large.
Ordinary things happen, whether you’re ready for them or not, and so I thought it was time to talk about some of mine, if for no other reason than that I don’t know how else to transition what I’m writing here.
I haven’t the heart to take down the Christmas tree because one of the dogs is so happy sleeping under it. I’m actually considering some sort of year-round indoor tree.
There’s a potentially exciting new client in the works.
Last night was a friend’s birthday, and the food was good and there was a lot of laughter.
I keep thinking Tori is all grown up and then she shows me something new. I begin to think it will always be that way. Maybe everything is. Maybe everything is just a little different from one day to the next, even when we don’t see the subtle shifting.