It’s pretty late and I’ve been lying here trying to slow my thoughts, to focus on my breaths, to let myself feel the warm comfort of the dogs tucked around my legs and under one arm. It’s been hard to sleep at night for a while now. This “new normal” feels so uneasy in my bones. All things pass in time, but the passing of the time itself is challenging.
I am reflecting on the beautiful moments from this latest day in what has felt ike a string of endless anxious sameness.
It was supposed to rain but instead the sun slipped in and out of clouds while I walked around the lake with the dogs. It was a welcome and unexpected release of tension.
The goats and chickens and dogs ran all over the yard, getting into everything, eating everything. For some reason the chaos was comforting. Maybe because this kind of chaos feels safe and happy and acceptable while the chaos everywhere else feels like just…chaos.
It was Liam’s birthday. My oldest (one of two living away in apartments who I’ve been aching and missing) surprised his brother and all of us with an unexpected outside short visit. He wanted to drop a present off for his brother and in doing that gave me the best gift of all. Even if we had to stay 6 feet apart and wear masks. I got to be NEAR him.
We converted our dining room into another bedroom to accommodate our swelled household. Each evening we set up a camp table in the living room, put on a pretty tablecloth, crowd chairs around it and share a meal together with all of us. Nothing matches, the ceiling tiles are unfinished, we are seated a foot away from the couch and yet somehow it’s all beautiful.
It’s even later now than when I began this reflection. I know its past time to close my eyes and rest and honestly I am trying. These sweet moments are the things I am working to keep in my mind as I listen to the sleep sounds around me and push against the worry in my heart.