Saturday, January 8, 2011

the one where I stagger through

(started on 1/8/11 at about 4 p.m.)

This shooting of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords in Tuscon, the death of a 9 year old, five others, thirteen injured ... consumes me today.

I listen to the sounds of my daughter and her two friends in my basement. Comfort even when my daughter screeches at one friend to "Stop!"

My fingers pause.

I think it's dangerous at this point to blame ...

No. The words won't come.

*

1/9/11

Today we will shift my child from me to him, unless we just ... can't. A movie with a friend later this afternoon. A healthy meal.

Normalcy?

I find that my plans change depending on whether my child is here. Subsume self? No. I am more myself when my child is around than I was before I had a child.

*

A sweater tosses in the dryer. My sweater. My Girl "usurped" this sweater months ago. It is hers now.

*

There's no flow today. Feeling scorched though it's cold out, snow on the ground.

*

The buzzing dryer gives me a chore to do. I'll retrieve the sweater, fold it, continue folding T-shirts, matching socks.

Push through.

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