God's Paintbrush

 Driving home from Rock Island after dropping off Cal and A, there was before me what I can only describe as one of the most gorgeous yet desolate, 180 degree sunsets that central Illinois has to offer. There were many jet trails across the sky, reportedly being the busiest travel day of the year. To say I was sad, just touches the tip of it. I had driven close to the Bed and Breakfast Pat and I stayed at on December 26, 2015, the last day we saw Adam. The last good-bye we didn't know would be forever. Just that sombered my heart. It wasn't a hard cry or even a soft cry, just a heaviness. And I know I just made up a new verb. 

I felt sad retracing the road I had just traveled with Cal and A. It seemed like a month had gone by since I picked up Cal at the airport and we had lunch at the Maple City Diner. It was only a week. 

We had a nice Thanksgiving week, with plenty of company. I'm not gonna lie and say I don't like having my house back. I'm happy to see 'em come and happy to see 'em go, well, sort of. Today not so much. 

How can there be a new Covid variant, racial injustice, mental health crises, war, ugliness and hate in a world that is simultaneously so beautiful? We are back to the ruthless furnace of this BRUT-iful world. See blog of 8/22/21.

I did stop to snap this pic, of course it doesn't do the scene justice

Labyrinth Walk

 

This is not what the labyrinth looked like on Halloween. I was mentioning how cool it was last spring when recently burned. This picture was taken March 1, 2021 (my birthday). Yesterday, Halloween, the grasses were well over my head, and only a little falling over the path. The labyrinth is sturdy, isn't it? When the wind knocked them down in September, they stood back up. Ahh, nature, it never disappoints, does it?

This walk was special. This walk was led by M, an 18 year survivor mom, me, a 5+ year survivor mom, and T, a 1.1 year survivor mom. This is my support group, this is where it's okay to be the me nobody sees, not even my family. We can say or ask anything. Two hours passed in the blink of any eye. T led the way out, followed by me, then M. Another two hours in a coffee shop. 

What we shared was private, cleansing, validating, and needed. I didn't know I needed it, but heading into winter, holidays, and the inevitable approach of February 2, I did. There's someone I want to reach out to. I don't know how it will go, but I need to try. My old and new friend reminded that there is nothing like sharing this heavy burden with someone who knows.