The 'things unbloggable' have taken over my life. I've been mugged by them, actually. Brianna and William are home for a time, and holding a baby is a precious counterbalance to the unbloggable fact that my mother is quite ill again. I know how these things work, but I didn't expect them to hit all at once.
Life at its beginning captured in a baby's eyes before he has words, life at its end and old eyes watch you, too tired for words. I wonder what I can do to make things easier, and I am caught in the middle of those two points with my own questions and wonderings.
As always, I comfort myself by looking closely at life, by paying attention to the details of it.
When I drove home the other day, following a tractor trailer, the wind whipped the weeds at the side of the road, and they swirled crazily, dancing. For some reason, just watching them as I clicked off the miles was a pleasant thing. I know that I've noticed the upturned leaves that signify that rain is coming, but the dancing weeds? I don't believe that I've noticed it before.
This morning was freight day. I walked into the store with Pete, a white haired farmer, whip thin and strong. It was 5 AM and the moon lit up the clouds. I said, "Isn't the sky beautiful?" and Pete said, "It always is this time of the morning." I looked at him. That's the difference between him and I. He knows this thing, this secret of the world.
That cat came back. It came into the open door of the new house and stared at Tim. Tim is not a pet people, and so he looked at the cat. "Go on," he said, and the cat studied him for a moment and then went back out the door to the mysterious place that he melts off to when I do not see him.
I listened to the thunder last night, and as always, I enjoyed the approach of the storm. I stood watching the wind and the rain when the storm hit, and I listened to the sound of thunder growing farther and farther away. That's life, isn't it? The storms threaten. Sometimes they hit. Always they move on.
Do not wonder if I am gone for a time. I'll be back.