I woke up with Robert, and we cuddled in front of the morning news like a couple of yawning kitty-cats, all wrapped up in a snuggle hug. It is the first day of spring. The sunrise shot up like a vivacious, red finger grasping at sky. Yum.
It's nice to get up in the morning and have a cup of coffee with the person I love most in the whole world. I feel very blessed.
Each day I learn to live again. It's like I forget how to live while I'm sleeping, and I've got to relearn all the basics, the toddler walk out of bed, blinking in the bathroom light, breathing the present into myself and the past out.
Each day I relearn my own limits, that I can't help my childhood friends anymore than I already have, at least not at the moment. I've given all I have. There's nothing more I can do. I have to live my life, bask in the love that's been given me, mourning quietly all that's been lost. Now I've got an arm around me. I often wake up nights, calling for Robert to hold me, in tears. Last night I woke up, taking swings at the air that in my dreams was the glass between the nursery and the sanctuary. All the children were crying and I kept screaming out that they oughtn't leave Scott with us, that he did bad things. Nobody listened until my swinging at sky and calling out to people who don't listen woke me up and Robert was there beside me, kissing my hair as I wept.
You know the bit in the Return of the King? When Frodo cries out to Sam Gamgee, "I am wounded, wounded. It will never really heal."
But then he got up, and the turn seemed to pass, and he was quite himself the next day. It was not until afterwards that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two years before on that day it was dark in the dell under Weathertop.
Ahhhh. The day goes on, and it's so beautiful.
Civilized, crying: how to be human again; this will tell you how.
Turn outward, love things, not men, turn right away from humanity,
Let that doll lie. Consider if you like how the lilies grow,
Lean on the silent rock until you feel its divinity
Make your veins cold; look at the silent stars, let your eyes
Climb the great ladder out of the pit of yourself and man.
Things are so beautiful, your love will follow your eyes;
Things are the God; you will love God and not in vain,
For what we love, we grow to it, we share its nature. At length
You will look back along the star's rays and see that even
The poor doll humanity has a place under heaven.
Its qualities repair their mosaic around you, the chips of strength
And sickness; but now you are free, even to be human,
But born of the rock and the air, not of a woman.
-Robinson Jeffers
