The sorrow is strong and suffocating, like a long simple cry that calls for no explanation. My heart, it’s swimming, it could drown without its steady movements and strength. My eyes, they don’t know what’s up ahead. My knees, they take so much of the weight, just wanting to sit, bend and push. My hands are fidgeting, looking for another hand or even just a wall to grab onto. My feet are dancing. There are jellyfish and butterflies somewhere, but I can’t feel them. My mouth is covered. My lashes are incomprehensibly heavy.
Somewhere, in some part of my body I cannot map, I am unfolding. I understand, I trust. This unmapped area is where compassion and love seem to seep from. The unmapped is where you and I are unseparated; it’s where I hold and revisit the magnitude of my life. It’s where I breathe from, where I think from.
My last Sunday the way things are has been spent, wisely. My house empty, filled with things that suffice. It’s warm, not with weather but with all of the years Josh and I have spent in it, and all of the people that sit soundly in our hearts. It reverberates all of the regular sounds that seem louder, and more like a song than ever before. We were watered so carefully here. So perfectly. We have stuff, but everything we need is somehow here and coming with us. How can that be? I guess it’s in the Change, it makes room for it.
“I learned how to say, ‘see you next time’ in sign language for you Mrs. April” -Alexis