Exhale

Late Friday night, while I relaxed in my NCTE hotel room, I got a message from Shawn. It was our dog, and it wasn't good. He was planning to take him into the vet and predicting the worst. I told Shawn I would be okay, and to do what he felt was best. 

In my mind, I was thinking, we've been here before, and he's been okay. 

This did feel different, though, and I hated the fact I wasn't home to help.

The next morning Shawn texted me that he was not improving, couldn't walk, and he had made the appointment after talking with the vet on the phone. The appointment was at 10:30, and he would text me when he could afterward. 

I lost my breath for a moment while sitting in a room full of people listening to amazing authors talk about their books. 

I got up and went to stand by a window in the main hall. I was grateful for the one tissue I had shoved in my purse that morning. Dabbing the two tears that were stuck in the corners of my eyes, I breathed in, I held it and clenched my hand. I didn't want to feel this right then. I didn't want it at all. 

I walked for a moment. Breathing. Walking. Exhaling like I was blowing out a candle, but it wouldn't go out. 

Anticipation!

Planning and preparation have taken over my life. I am in the last days before I leave for NCTE, and I am so excited. I am also anxious about all the moving parts of leaving, even though I know it will all be okay. I can steady myself, but I can't help my natural tendency to become anxious about significant changes to my routine.
I have made all the lists, and I am still certain I will forget something. I do not have all my outfits picked out, which probably means I'm going to over-pack. I don't have all the bits and pieces of my roles within our home handled, listed, and organized. Again, I realize life is going to go on even if I never get to this step.
I also can't wait to just get there already. It's one of those things I've been anticipating, and I just want to be surrounded by my people, eat meals together, and get locked into conversations that grow me in all the good ways.
So, here's to overwhelming my brain, getting a headache from smiling, and wearing myself out. I can't wait.

In My Corner

I had a doctor's appointment this morning. I always kind of chuckle when a doctor asks, "Do you have a lot of stress?"

I never even know how to answer that question. I feel like the answer is YES and at the same time it's, well-kinda, and then maybe a little bit of --NO, not at all! 

I mean, I'm a mom--stress.

I have lots of little people at school who rely on me--stress.

Work never really ends--stress.

But...

There are so many things that balance out the stress and most of the time, I can look at the stress and see it as good. Yes, good stress. The kind that makes me more productive but doesn't make me restless. The kind that makes me feel accomplished and not drained. Does it make me stop and breathe sometimes, yes, but I got this. 

So my answer was, "Yes, but not in a way that isn't healthy."

He said, "How old are your kids?"

"12 and 14...yeah, they're tough and I'm a teacher, that's a lot, but I'm not more stressed than I need to be."

I've got a husband who does dishes. A mom who calls to check on me and love me no matter what. A dad who is always proud of me. A daughter who makes my coffee and fills my water bottle every morning. A son who starts my car and brushes off the snow in the morning (yes, snow already--don't get me started). A friend who helps me in a pinch when I feel like I might not be able to do it all. I might be stressed but I'm also pretty darn lucky and there isn't anything to be stressed about when I think of everyone in my corner. 

The Day After

Still, so much of that night feels fresh, and yet everything is different. Just like things are when you have a moment like this. Three years is a long time. 

Anniversaries are funny. Not in the haha way but in an odd way. The way a time of year can come around and bring back a flood of smells, images, and feelings. Tears in the back of my eyes sit still, and I remind myself I'm okay.

Today is the third anniversary of "the day after." Our house was ablaze just before midnight, but we still felt like November 5th was the next day for us. We slept at our neighbor's house in their grown son's bedroom. When we walked out of our neighbors front door and into the blue sky sunlight seeing our house blackened, boarded, and broken--a part of us stayed in that moment. Now it comes back in memories.

Today I went on a search for some poems I wrote shortly after the fire. I remember feeling like a member of our family was gone. Two actually. I worried our pine tree would have to come down. But the tree bounced back to life, still wearing its charred parts, and the house was reincarnated. It's so strange to have almost the same house. To this day, we occasionally reach for light switches in the wrong spot. It makes us smile at our silliness, but it causes a pause in thought. And yet, it was only a thing. People always say things can be replaced. This is true. They aren't quite the same though.


The poem I wrote to our house when we were living in a hotel.

I sometimes wonder if you miss us.
I feel bad that you are left there
all alone
empty
waiting.
I wonder if you know what happened.
I wonder if you're sad.
I don't want you to worry.
We are okay.
We miss filling you with laughter,
good smells, and barking.
But just you wait
Pretty soon...


The poem I wrote to the house about the pine tree and the days leading up to the remains being torn down.

Did you see the tree?
That tree was like your partner
You'd been friends since birth
It's a long time to live together
She might just make it
I'm sorry you didn't
They are coming to take you away pretty soon
I don't think I'll watch
I'd rather not see you like this
I like picturing the first time I saw you
Knowing you were the one