The midwest is shrouded in snow, ice, and slush today. Trees have snapped off their tops. Power lines have fallen. There is a heavy gloom all around. It seems fitting.
For a long while now, I've been feeling centered, feeling 'high', feeling inspired. When I'm in that place I wonder why others can't 'feel the love' and join me there. I wonder why people let the little things bother them. I share my wisdom like I have it all figured out.
Unfortunately the pendulum's pattern of my life shows me that after each high there must be its accompanying low. And there's where I find myself today.
It started with the day when Rob and I sniped at each other the way old, married couples, who've never found a way out of the ruts, do. It continued with an even worse day on Saturday, despite my 'lessons noted' if not learned. Edgy, edgy, edgy, trying not to spill it but it brims over anyhow. And it carried on yesterday when I got a bee in my bonnet (more like a bug up my *ss) and spent all morning cleaning our disgusting garage, then cleaned the house, then rearranged the furniture, got the tree, made dinner, put up decorations, and fell into bed, exhausted. It was one of those 'keep moving' sort of edgy days.
So I wasn't entirely surprised to wake today and find I'm edgier than ever. School was called off but I couldn't find it within myself to make it a fun day. I couldn't think of one d*mn thing to do; I knew I was going to let the day pass with no fanfare. And then mom called.
My grandmother died.
This was not entirely unexpected; she's been failing for a while. And she was 95. But, still... it's my grandma, and she's always been here, and she's always bounced back; was always the tough one. And when I cried, I'm a bit ashamed to say the tears were mostly a release of all the buried grief for my father.
I get a bit wacky when I grieve these days. My answer to the edginess I felt was to make a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. For no good reason. I had to slog through ice and slush in a barren, shut-down countryside to get a few ingredients. I gave dirty looks to other shoppers because I was feeling surly. I cooked and cooked and took out my angst on the mashed potatoes. I didn't heed the messages of the lost measuring spoons or the the spilled bottle of safflower oil or the vase that shattered on the counter. I kept cooking. We had turkey dinner, d*mn it.This is when I hope-hope-hope there's some sort of next stage, because I'm pretty sure my grandma really needs to see her son.
And I'm pretty sure she needs to see her husband, who died over 50 years ago, leaving her with a farm and three kids to care for.
And I'm pretty sure she needs to give him a stiff upper-cut to the jaw right after their reunion kiss.
We've asked her to give dad one too.
After the hug and kiss, of course.