A Bad Winter

It has been a bad winter.  Leaving my school.  Starting over.  A bad fall in December, rendering me unable to run.  Separating from my friend in January.  Trying to recover.  Snow.  Bomb cyclones.  Power loss.  A favorite colleague moving on.

And on May 21st, waking up to yet more snow and a freeze that might kill my roses.

I am trying to think of this winter as time passed.  There is so much good that has risen from the darkness.  I started swimming again since I couldn't run.  I started piano lessons because I couldn't focus on reading.  Learning so much more about my work, the new stuff, the old stuff.  I have opinions that aren't always appreciated, but I have room to grow.

And the school year is ending for the children this week.  After a month of presentations and award ceremonies, I'll be suddenly free.

I don't feel totally okay.  I just don't.  There has been too much change in too short a time.  As irritating as I find routine, it is also nice to know pretty much what is going to happen today and next week and next month.

Last Sunday night we attended a dinner at church to discuss the future by a telling of the past.  I was the first one who went to the microphone to talk about what the church means to me.  I left a lot out.  I talked about growing up in the church and wanting the same for my children.  I didn't bring up being in church after Mark had left the family and the young woman who gave me her number and said she could babysit.  That was such a horrible time and I didn't know what was going to happen in the next hour, much less the next week.  I didn't bring up the fact that Mark is still there, in the columbarium eternally.  All that is time passed.  What is important is the now.  The children in youth group and the big boy who read to the babies after dinner.  The fact that Mark's parents have joined me and the children in that space and community.

As long as I remain not unstuck in time, time passed is time passed.  I can look back, but that is as ephemeral as crayons in the summer sun.  The only thing I need to concentrate on is what is happening now and what I plan for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is more meetings at work and some laughter with colleagues and children at home.  Everything will be okay.

Spring

And just like that it is Spring again.

My lone tulip is dropping its petals.  My apple tree is blossoming in the most glorious way.  Soon there will be lilacs.  Then the roses will start.  Later in the year the 4 o'clocks will show up. 

Always there are the pansies I plant every year right around Will's birthday. 

And also there is Mother's Day.  Looming.  Is it really seven years since that terrible Mother's Day when I called the cops on Mark?  I guess it is. 

I am feeling gloomy this season and I don't much care for it. Spring should be a time of renewal.  As it is, I think I might not plant the vegetable garden this year.  I'm not sure I have enough nurture in me.  With nobody looking out for me specifically, I don't know that I want to look out for one more thing.

Work is interesting and I'm finding my way.  I want to concentrate on that and on riding my bike and swimming and running and caring for kids.  Not plants outside suffering under the summer sun.

Which may be why I love my flowers so much.  Only the pansies need a little of my time.  The tulip and the apple tree and the lilacs and the roses and the 4 o'clocks just show up.  They are like friends showing up with dinner and wine, unbidden. If I sit on the back porch very long I will be covered in apple blossoms.  It is beautiful and peaceful.  I had a bonfire last night as the apple blossoms slowly drifted down like slow snow.