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Friday, April 23, 2010

A week of wallowing in spring sadness


I haven't been painting. I've been looking at my yard in pure nostalgic terms. Things are blooming without my sons or my husband or my father-in-law here to appreciate. I thought winter would be the hardest, and this has taken me by surprise. I keep myself busy so to not notice the hum of the yard without the boys' laughter and clutter. I've been running to not notice the lonely cats. There are workshops, board meetings, classes, support groups, financial appointments, movies, and friends to help out. No time this week do laundry or to paint or go to the gym. No time for my closest friends as I turn off my phones and curl up in the night glad to be alone. My sleep is a crusade full of bad dreams. The terrain is hilly, sinking, soggy, reptile infested, dark.
Morning coffee on the porch has me particularly sad. There is a bush... a particular bush that haunts my days. It only blooms briefly and the aroma wafts about the outside of the house and makes me weep. So I have, on a friend's council, decided to paint it.
The brushes are washed in my tears. What am I doing?! I think I have made a mess. Just hope the family can pull out of it and the painting can be saved.
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