Life is hard. I'm baffled that it has only been two months since we lost James. This winter has by far been the longest and worst winter I have ever experienced. The sadness that is lodged in my heart from losing my little brother has been magnified by the cold and it feels as though a change of seasons will be the only thing to lessen its painful grasp.
Time passing is such a bittersweet emotion. It is bitter because it is a larger wedge placed between him and I, a longer amount of time since I spoke with him or saw his face. The possibility of forgetting is the scariest thought I have faced. I long for healing from the pain while I find myself holding onto it solely so that I don't forget. But the time passing is also sweet in that because of it I am learning how to better ride the waves of grief. The pain, while still there, has lessened just enough that I can breathe comfortably most days and I am so grateful for that.
I just want to be able to walk with his memory somehow, the same way a mother and son walk hand in hand down the street. Slowly, carefully, filled with love. My sincere longing for winter to be over is seemingly the tallest hurdle on this track of life after loss and I'm so looking forward to jumping over it.
But tomorrow is March! Spring is almost here!
There aren't many things better than the feeling of early Spring approaching after a long, harsh winter. The crisp of the morning air mixed with a hint of warmth, the smell of the wet earth after it has rained throughout the night, the sound of the birds chirping their lovely melodies from the tree branches. Oh the birds! I walk beneath the branches and close my eyes while I let their songs lift me. The sound of birds chirping in the early morning brings massive waves of nostalgia that cover me in bliss. I am eight years old and waking up on the trampoline in the backyard. I am snuggled in a sleeping bag in a tent while a sliver of sun finds its way through the cotton canvas and gently kisses my face. I am taking a leisurely stroll up the canyon where I grew up while the black capped chickadee's lull me with their "hey sweetie" calls. Everything about the birds chirping opens up my soul and I'm just sure that far into the future, after Dan and I retire and begin traveling the world, I will become a bird watcher. I'm just sure of it.
We spent our weekend in a cabin by the lake and it was lovely. We had planned to ice fish but because it has been so warm as of late the lake is speckled with giant puddles and long glacier-like cracks, the beginnings of the next season visually plausible. It was windy and a tad stormy but oh so beautiful there. In the mornings I would stand on the deck with a hot cup of coffee for as long as I could take the chill to watch the sun rising over the lake. The serenity of watching the sunrise in a quiet lake town is enough to fill my cup, even if just for a short while!
We did not, however, get much sleep this weekend. Our B is a tough cookie when it comes to sleeping away from home. Opposite of his brother, B is the lightest sleeper. And he is just like is Dad in that he would always prefer to stay up late and wake up early when we are on vacations! Camping, weekend getaways, you name it. We go into them with stout recognition and determination while consistently reminding ourselves, don't plan on any sleep! But we will be strong and have fun anyway!
And since mister social learned to climb out of his crib, no sleep is really our jam these days. But it's okay because I'm learning some things about myself. I'm learning that there is a fine line between sleeping to recharge and sleeping to miss out on life.
They say that you need sufficient sleep to look youthful and avoid wrinkles. I think about that sometimes while I live in this world of lacking sleep, but the thing is, I don't think that's what life is or should be about. Life is too short! When I look in the mirror lately I remind myself of a well-read book, the cover torn a bit on the edges and faded from the sun, marks and indentations scattered here and there from its travels. When I look in the mirror I see that I have lived. And it never makes me wish for youth and less wrinkles, but rather it makes me proud of the fact that I am living the full human experience in all of its terrible glory.
One of the marks of that look of living comes from my ability to walk that fine line between sleeping to recharge but not sleeping to miss out on any of my one precious and wild life. I often don't roll out of bed overly chipper and ready to face the day, mind you! But I force myself out, or sometimes I am forced out by an early to rise babe. I splash my face with some cold water, I brew a pot of coffee, and after I sit down in the stillness to sip from my cup and kindly let myself wake, I am ready to face what the day has to offer. I am ready to live.
So even without sleep, we had a good weekend getaway. It was a slow paced and easy couple of days, a perfect recharge to our low batteries.
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