I took two naps this morning before 9:45 AM.
But at least I didn’t have to drive my husband to the airport for his 6:40 AM flight to Houston. I was worried about falling asleep driving home. So, there’s that. Drowsy driving is no joke.
Writing in a blog after a few weeks of silence is a lot like answering a letter that’s been sitting on your desk for three months. It’s just awkward. (Do you remember writing letters? I used to be such a letter-writing boss.)
My husband has gone to Texas because his mother is not expected to live more than a couple of weeks. In the past year, four people he was related to–by blood or by heart–have died. It’s tough to be the one who feels helpless and a little outside of the circle of grief. (But then I feel guilt because none of this is about me at all.) I remember when my dad was dying that I felt completely encircled by the sorrow, like being stranded on a tiny rocky island in a vast sea of sadness. My husband was by my side during that terrible time but he wasn’t on the island with me. You may or may not understand this, depending on whether you’ve been there yourself.
Anyway, so while he’s gone, I’m here, carrying on. I work very late and usually drop into bed at 1:30 AM.
I drive my son to school at 7:15 AM, then drive another to work at 9:00 AM. My daughter has rides to and from school in a carpool–and I just finished my two weeks of driving the carpool, so I’m off the hook for the next two weeks. But I still have to pick-up the boys from school and work. And in the middle of that, I work. And then do laundry and dishes and cooking and all the rest to keep the gears turning here at home.
Our weather has finally cooled down from the ghastly summer-like temperatures. It’s so nice to feel a cool evening breeze and to be enveloped by fog in the morning. Today I actually wore jeans for the first time since April or May. At some point, I imagine I’ll put on socks and actual shoes as well. But let’s not rush into these things.
Sometimes while I’m driving around, I think of things I could write about in this space. And I’m always 100% sure that I won’t forget my brilliant ideas. But I forget them because my brain is like a pinball game, the ideas ricocheting around before disappearing, despite my frantic effort to flap those flippers.
Raise your hand if you know that feeling.
Now, I have to get some sleep so I can drive my boy to high school in 5 hours and fifty minutes.
But who’s counting? I am asleep! Even now!