Fly Away

"Eventually... Spring," art quilt by Desiree Bowman

This beautiful art quilt is now on my bedroom wall; it's my gift to myself for... persevering. I awaken to it every morning (and lately in the middle of the night) and meditate on both the beautiful colors and composition and on the meaning: eventually, spring returns. Yes, it's summer now, and I am reveling in the warmth and sun and rain and flowers and all of it. But part of me has been living in winter for over three years now, and while I know things eventually turn, and they will because I'm working hard on my life foundations, some days I wonder if this metaphorical winter of my life will ever end. It will. I know this, because I have faith, which transcends fear if we uncage it. But some days, I can't help myself, I wonder.

In the meantime, life happens. And death, too. I fly to Philadelphia tomorrow (instead of Friday) because my mom now has "hours, maybe a few days" left. I pray that I make it in time. I have never been to this place before, this place of losing a beloved one, and so like everyone else who finds themselves here I am flying blind. Stunned. I had to say goodbye to my kids and my dog this evening; the kids get it (Lazarus more, Maggie less) but Lucy just doesn't, and she looked so bereft when I closed the door on her at my ex's house. I wouldn't have left her there except that she and the kids need each other right now... so I tell myself. Now I'm home, packing, coming across a few of Mom's things in the laundry, and the 4-year-old in me is wondering if I take them with me and bring them to her, will she magically wake up and be okay? Some would say she will wake up in another place, a greater place, magically healed and whole again. I can go with this... I don't think I can bear the alternative right now.