Go Blog Yourself

Praying for Stellan’s successful surgery.  

I see why people run away from home. For the last two days, I kind of did.

1 friend, but mostly just a city of strangers.

I was just a girl at the bar enjoying the band. Someone on the dance floor, some lady by the pool in jeans, asleep with her book. Oddly, I was even called a few names but they didn’t imply cancer or death. (What? You crazy Texans have never see straight girls with short hair before?) People didn’t have pity in their eyes. No one stared awkwardly or pretended they didn’t recognize me.

I soaked up the warmth.
I soaked up the music.
The sounds of a busy city.
The smell of green.
Of humidity.
Of the river.

I slept in late. I slept in the middle of the day. I danced till after 2:00. Walked around on busy, misty streets in the dark. I laughed and laughed and laughed. It felt good to be her. She reminded me of me.

I sat at the pool under overcast skies, just watching the river and the river boat guide wash the windows on his boat. It was the first peaceful hours I’ve spent alone since Tuesday was diagnosed. It felt good to be alone but what I noticed most was that I wasn’t alone. It’s like I could feel Tuesday and The Prince of Peace, hands on my knees and patting my back, and I knew everything was going to be ok. I realize it sounds a bit like crazy talk, but I felt it.

And now, back to reality. And nothing says reality like some 20 inches of snow in April.

But anyway, I know it’s going to be okay.

“Mom, Otto pooped in the basement.  Either that or the Easter Bunny Pooped in the basement.”

I’m in a room that I recognize as my old apartment.  It’s vaguely familiar.  It looks like me and it feels like it was once mine and it even feels great for a while but the longer I’m there and the more I look around, I can’t figure out if I’m supposed to be there or not.  I want to leave because now it doesn’t feel right but I can’t find my suitcase anywhere in this small room.  It was right here a minute ago.  I look everywhere and know it’s gone, but seriously, it was right here a minute ago.  I can’t leave without it. It’s everything I have and everything I need.  

Every night it’s something different.  Something important that I’ve lost.  The whole dream is spent searching.

I can’t find my footing.  Nothing feels right and nothing is comfortable.  Not even a hug from Charley or my delicious children.  Don’t get me wrong, they feel good, just not right.  It’s my end of the hug that’s all jacked up.  Too desperate? I don’t know, it’s just not right.  Is it because I’ve also lost my footing, my role, in my family?  I’ve just spent half a year with someone else running my house and raising my children, washing my underwear, while I spent all of my energy on protecting, loving, nurturing a child that is no longer here. 

I want Dad to sit by me.

I want Daddy to tuck me in.

I want Dad to do it.

Where’s daddy?

I wasn’t a wife because my time with my husband was limited to stolen moments in a hospital room or the occasional date where we spent the whole time talking about what was going on in said hospital room.  

I assume it will come full circle.  I’ll fight for it.  

Right as soon as I remember who I am.