Mindfull

My morning started out very melancholy.

Thoughts seeming to spin uncontrollably, my mind couldn't, wouldn't settle down. No true coherent thought was there.

Phrases, words, and more words would flash across my brain.

I felt so confused, the muscles in my forehead ached. I realized I was frowning in confusion. (I am developing lines! Permanent ones!)

Words, words, phrases and questions, questions that I couldn't answer, because a new thought would be quickening, arising, filling my brain.

Twisting, turning, twirling, I couldn't seem to stop them.

Take/Give
A shoveled path through the snow to my car.
Give in, give out, when did I stop giving?
Memories of wounds that won't heal.
Feel the pain or hide from it?
Lost and found.
What's good? What's so wrong? All of it. No more, no more.
Evade, conceal, reveal, pretend, focus, live.

Later, my head bent over my desk, eyes filling with tears.

A friend, "Hey, you coming to lunch with us?"

"Sorry, no lunch for me today, too much to do."

"OK, but....are you alright?"

Smiling,"Yes, I'm fine, really."

A look. I look away, she stays. "Hey."

"It shows huh?"

"Only to me, I know you too well, remember?"

She walked over to me, opened her ample loving arms and hugged me. "Just remember, I'm always here.....for......whenever, whatever."

My first smile of the day.

Then too busy to think, too busy to allow anymore worry, too busy for confusion to deal more blows.

Even later in my day.

I get to visit a client, one in so much need, a need to have just a tiny taste of freedom, from her caregiving duties. Almost two hours of talking, sharing her story, their story. Leaving her with a positive feeling.....that she could have, can have, deserves a few hours a week, a few hours when she can have peace from too much giving. Her husband cognizant today, knowing she needs the time away, to breathe.

My day is better.

Later, remembering a family dinner, with the "Stuffy One's", an Uncle and Aunt of my husbands, I groan. Not really wanting to visit with these two, who have their own agenda. Never really listening to what other's say, just pontificating over our words, never truly looking for the message we are trying to impart.

Mentally exhausted, not wanting to go, Miss Daughter and I commiserating with each other. Mr. Son refusing to attend (he hates small talk with a passion). We suggest the taking of two vehicles, while we try to convince him. A mistake or a blessing?

We tease, we cajole, we beg, I play the mommy card....laughing, hugging him, "I gave birth to you, I have loved you all of your life, I am your mother, do this, do this for me, for us. We can have fun, you can use your views to shock them if you wish, you can drive the jeep. Plus babe, it's free food. Now how can you turn that down?" He agrees to go. Miss Daughter and I laugh, congratulate each other. The three of us a team once again.

As we pull out of the drive, I tell him to turn left, puzzled he looks at me.
"Take the long way."
He does. We laugh, we giggle, we feel mischievous. Also during the drive, Mr. Son mentions getting a roommate. I ask him to hold off on that thought for a few months.

During dinner, Miss Daughter and I play our parts, we are the epitome of social discourse (yeah right! But hey it works). The six of us all playing our parts, falling into familiar roles. Mr. Son deciding to play at being the sullen son...after a teasing comment from Great-Uncle about the length of his hair.

The meal feels endless, but we three still have our lighter hearts. It has been sooo long!

The drive home, Mr. Son decides once again to take the long way.

He asks a question. "Were you serious? About when Miss Sister returns from her trip?"

I don't answer at first. How much is too much information? But they are not children any longer. So I answer. Then ask how they each feel. They are full of positive comments. I am sad, but at the same time full of amazement. I ponder, I state some of the downsides, I state how awful it will be, how very sad.

They, these two bright, loving, wonderful souls in my life. They tell me it is time, way past time for all of us.

Was I wrong to tell them? I have not decided yet.

I can only go by what happened on our return home. We sat in my room, laughing, talking, playing with words....the dictionary was involved. Miss Daughter writing an essay on the computer, as I lay on my bed reading aloud. Mr. Son sitting there listening, smiling, laughing.

Was I wrong? I still don't know.