The calendar says that spring has arrived, but usually that doesn’t mean a thing in
Exactly 2 months after my dad’s death my mother fell and broke her hip, and on a day’s notice I flew to
These weeks away from home have left me disorganized, behind at work and out-of-sorts. The debris from our winter boots is scattered throughout the house, piles of laundry sit patiently waiting their turn, the cucumbers in the fridge have grown interesting molds. On my desk sits an unfinished seminary paper, the Fauré Requiem performance is looming, and just this morning did I choose music for Easter. Exercise has been almost non-existent and my attempts to eat properly are a constant struggle.
When I have a chance to reflect on the past few months I realize that my life is at a turning point…not only with my parents, but with Emily as well. Simply put it is called change and it’s something I’ve never been particularly good at. Friends tell me to go easy on myself and I suppose that’s good advice…but at some point I need to pick up all the loose threads.
So this change from winter to spring has given me hope-perhaps it is arbitrary, but I’ll take it. To celebrate the new season Bill and I went for a beautiful walk last weekend along