What I've come here to write about tonight could easily be material for numerous posts. Could be, but won't. That's because I find that my writing here has become an act in stream of consciousness. My thoughts spring forth in a fluid and dynamic way so before I can dig too deep, I feel compelled to move on. I attribute this recent modus operandi as much to pining as to prescience. I am equal parts trying to capture the moment and excited to live it.
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Big Ben(ita) expired. Lily went to feed her Monday morning and found her grey and gone. She came into the kitchen rather verklempt over seeing her usual Kermit green lizard looking drab and in decay. BB was certainly on borrowed time. When she brought the lizard home at the culmination of a science unit, it was the spring of third grade. We were told she would live a year maybe two. We shared a tear, a hug and even a laugh before she left for school, but I just hated to send her off with a heavy heart. And I knew she'd see her curled up in the corner of the cage a little withered and off color over and over and feel that aching sadness that comes when we must say goodbye and know our time together is over.
She admitted that it weighed on her all day and wondered what we would do to dispose of her body. I offered a few suggestions and she decided that it would be best to put her under a rock so she could simply go back to the earth. She couldn't fathom her washed down the toilet or stuck in a box until spring. It may seem slight and small, but it revealed much to me about my thoughtful, tender-hearted girl. Honoring the dead is important to her, just as is celebrating the living.
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It's a sort of celebration to wake early on my days off. It's my intention to eke out as much time as possible. It never fails that before I know it, it's noon or 9 o'clock. I never understand how it is that when I wake, the day feels endless and then when I'm ready to call it a night, I scarcely can tell you how the day descended. I look at the calendar and am stunned that we're fast approaching February. Years are minutes...this much I absolutely know is true.
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You know what else is true? There's no time like the present. There's so very much I put off or on hold. It never feels right either because we aren't promised any tomorrows. Every night there are things I pray about and I promise, Tomorrow God. Forgive me my procrastination. My sin. Even while I'm giving it my energy, I feel like a fraud. I believe in the tabula rasa, the fresh start but also the power of the past, and I don't give up because I know I'm running out of time.
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Tonight I read Dear Future Man Who Loves My Daughter from Dear Mr. You. It was a beautiful piece that spoke to me as a mother and as a sister. Mary-Louise Parker describes her brother meeting her daughter for the first time and how that is one one of the moments she wants to revisit if in fact we revisit moments in the end. My eyes welled up and over with memory upon memory after reading that one sentence so I know we must...we do. I not only saw a barrage of images, but I felt a flood of emotions. I decided to ride it instead of capture it, but it's what brought me here tonight.
