I just packed up Christmas at our house. Say what? Yes. It’s nearly the end of January and today was the only day I found time to box up the tree, the family of snowmen, stockings and ornaments. Back in the box. Back in the garage. It’s not all the product of procrastination either. The variables that factor into this delay include an appendectomy, a stroke, emergency rooms, a mistaken and mindless comment from a a clueless ER doctor stating the presence of metastatic prostate cancer, a pandemic of hypertension among family members, and a daughter who has now entered the Cling-on phase. All she does is cry out for me the second I put her down or leave the room for a nano second; and may I just say that this girl’s crying voice is of the disarming variety. All these and a tumultuous uproar of emotional (personal) noise. Some issues at hand that make me want to: A. Seek therapy. B. Meet up with an old flame - the cigarette (which I probably won’t because it’s too much of a hassle to quit - again). C. Be a porker and shove an entire box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts in my mouth. When the ship you’re sailing is rocked, finding one’s bearings is seemingly dim. Eventually the day breaks and calm waters do ensue but until then or at least for now I’m just coming up for air.
That’s what I wrote last night. This morning I woke up feeling like myself again and not the the growling monster I went to bed as. It felt peaceful waking up next to Mandarin this morning and seeing her so easeful and calm gave me the serenity to get over the occasional stress of motherhood. My palm still perfectly fits the side of her face just like it does with my hubby’s face and I find it meaningful that the emancipation - the mere act of opening one’s hands begets forgiveness and receives it just the same. All while being open to all the good that we forget is always there. I want to take this moment of clarity and put it in a locket to take with me anywhere I go as a constant reminder of hope.
January keeps trying to knock me down, but I’m still standing. And all I have to say to that is: Yes. Thank you. More please. I’ll be ready, February.
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