Wednesday, January 29, 2014

what it actually looks like at this moment in my life.

we haven't had hot water for 2 days
and the kitchen is a mess.
i have no intention of cooking tonight
even though that is financially
whatever that happens to mean.

it is hard to do dishes without hot water.
also, you should see my hair.
oh my!

there aren't any new photos to use on my blog 
because i can't find the cord to connect my phone,
so i look back through old ones to use,
and hope they aren't reposts.
but i don't actually care all that much
if they are.

the living room is collecting random piles 
that share parts of the individual stories that are played out in our home.
i can tell that children have been here,
i see the piles of their books,
 the sticker pictures
 once so precious but forgotten in the transition to home.

{i will save them, just in case they remember}

there is evidence of Hannah and Cody playing scrabble.
i wonder is she won again?
this makes her quite proud.
tea has been drunk recently and 
someone needs to vacuum-

the gravol bottles are becoming empty,
same as the pain killers, the muscle relaxants.
there are sick and sore people here.
we are looking for relief.
with the medicine and the juicing and the chocolate.
it isn't working.
neither is the endless napping, 
the trips to the chiropractor, 
the magazine buying.

i spilled words all over a page last night
and pushed send.
i felt ill.
too much spilling. not enough editing.
it doesn't matter though
they are words.
 just words.

i want to see my friend
and my family,
to drink tea with 
owen's sisters.
but there isn't the energy or the time.

how does that happen?

at this moment  my life
it looks messy and dull
and i find myself wanting to wander away
to somewhere else.
but i know that i know
that this is just a moment,
and there are gifts here too.

endless illness fogs up my vision.
there is no trusting the emotions that swirl in this place.

sometimes i tire of the gifts
 that come disguised as lessons, as challenges, as opportunities.
i would prefer pretty presents please.
i tell owen that i don't really need to keep practicing
empathy through experience.
really, i am done with all that for now
i say with a sigh.
 he smiles at me
knowing that comment is just me
 delayed in my very human complaining
about what would long ago  been okay to have been  too much 
but i am just now deciding to tire of it.

my cat sleeps through the mess
perches on the unfolded blankets.
i go hide for a while
there is always tomorrow.
or a someday to find these places again.




  1. Xoxo, dear one. Such honesty here. Such truth. Love to you. Keep going, there's no other way.

  2. No hot water? Well, that's 'cause you're a plumber's wife, right? Good thing he ain't a doctor…

    Seriously, I'm sad that I dropped off the internet and didn't catch this one while it was new - I would have told you to come out here for a hairwash and a bubble bath and some tea. If you had the energy for it. I know about not having the energy even for really important things. I like your complaining! And it makes me happy that Owen replies by smiling at you…

    We're sick, too, though not as bad as the plague that hit your house. John's had to work anyway, and Roo's been here and there, but the rest of us haven't left the neighbourhood for nearly two weeks.