Early morning, bleary-eyed, I find my shoes in the bathtub. That line between quirky and crazy blurs. Until I see the umbrella laying there too and remember the rain soaked soles that squished and puddled with every step. Remember the full rainbow arched against the black sky.
I have never seen that movie - Two Weddings & A Funeral? I can't imagine it can be a comedy. Two funerals and a wedding this past week. While I sat miles away with my feet tucked under my desk. Distraught, even my feet. Miles away. And torn between celebration, sadness, and the everyday.
I found some comfort in thinking of my heart as shattered. This piece enveloped in sadness; this piece grieves; this piece celebrates; this piece sings out their love song. Each simultaneously and whole-heartedly. I'll send you this piece and deliver you this piece and keep this piece - the best way I know how to defy time and place. This shattered heart works best. We are strong where we are broken.
Too young - that thought loops as an involuntary reaction. Both selfless and selfish. She's too young to die; she's too young to lose her mother; I'm too young to get married. I can't imagine. These thoughts float. They hold no weight.
I'm not ready - this one holds steady. It has weight.
When have I ever felt ready for the best or for the worse? They come anyway. Thankgoodness they come anyway. Ready requires thought and process and preparation. We can't prepare for the best or the worst. We can't know the pain or the elation until arrives, each time always for the first time. I'm not ready. The best and the worst arrive anyway.
I did a celebratory dance in my desk chair when I found a footnote citing an elusive source. She caught me mid-jig and we laughed until we cried. We laughed until we cried.
