It’s funny when you’re going through some kind of tragedy all of the things that we tell ourselves to silence that inner voice - you know the one, doubtful and pessimistic, you suppress it with one cliche after another and none of them quite console you. And I don’t want to try to be profound about the things that are swirling about me, I don’t want to tell you how precious life is or that we shouldn’t take moments for granted because certainly you already know these things.
In an instant. I’ve repeated those words so many times in the last few days. In an instant everything can, and does, change. In an instant, you regret not having said something you should have said or regret saying what you should have kept quiet. In an instant, the universe will put you in your place, kind of an unfair game of Rochambeau that you have no chance in hell of winning. In an instant, your Aunt - healthy and vibrant is anything but that.
You will be optimistic, hopeful, prayerful - all of the things you are supposed to be, all of the things she was before the words brain and surgery became part of everyday conversations. In an instant, a man in a white coat will tell your family hundreds of miles away that it’s best to induce a coma, give the brain time to rest and to alleviate the swelling.
That man in the white coat, sympathetic and kind is still so uncertain and he will come back to tell you what you already know - that we don’t know anything at all. The brain is a very delicate thing after all. And you think to yourself that you wish you didn’t know what a stupid tracheotomy was and that the man in the white coat hadn’t told your family, hundreds of miles away, that we don’t know if she’s going to wake up and even if she does, if she’ll ever be able to speak again. And speaking is a big deal in a family full of big-mouthed people who talk over top of one another and oh my God what if you never hear that voice again? Yup. In an instant - things change.
And so you come home from a day that simultaneously zipped by and dragged on and you make yourself a bowl of oatmeal. None of those fancy steel cut oats or oatmeal that requires an hour to cook. Just the box with the old white guy on it. A little piece of home when you’re not home. Like being 8 again only 8 is so far gone and you’re wishing you could get it back.
I’ve been bursting with words for a few days but I’ve been busy doing whatever it is that I do and forgetting to actually sit down and commit said thoughts into actual text. Last week was rough and tumble. On Friday, my Aunt had emergency brain surgery after suffering an aneurysm. She’s doing okay and I expect that she will fully recover because she’s tough like that, as are most of the women in my family which is one of the reasons I’m glad to have them in my life.
Saturday, I was catching up my sister on the details of my life and she said one of the sweetest, kindest things to me. I don’t even want to get into the trivial details but it was a nice moment because my sister and I have this relationship that often feels like it’s held together with tape and string. But in that special little moment, I felt my heart swell a little because I love my sister a lot and that we don’t have this relationship that I think so many sisters share, is hard for me.
Later in the day, the power went out at work and it is amazing to me how grown-ups react to being in the dark. I mean, if the boogie monster is coming to get you, it’s probably not going to be at work, you know? With an early pass to leave, I shopped a little with my husband and le Torrence, had dinner and then went bowling. Note: I am an awful bowler. Worse than awful really. My first game I think I bowled a 93 and I boosted my second game up to maybe 124 - which is a vast improvement but also pretty awful. Furthermore, I’m going to need the professional bowlers to not bowl anywhere near me as you cause me to feel inadequate and lame.
On Sunday my life was a bit of a whirlwind. A quick shopping jaunt to the city (D.C.) with le Torrence and then to Maryland a birthday party for my husband’s cousin’s 1 year-old. Then back to Virginia for dinner and (lots of) drinks and gossip with more of my husband’s family. I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I have to tell you (again) that I love my in-laws. Adore them even. They are just fundamentally very awesome and loving and I’m very lucky in that way. Yesterday I stayed mostly in my pajamas save for a three minute walk to the mailbox and the Mexican restaurant by my house.
Today, I’m back to the grind - attempting to stay focused on the days ahead and the things that I need to accomplish. I am in desperate need of actually sitting down to read a book because I feel like I’m getting dumber everyday, which may or may not be true depending on who you ask.
Also, the sunday share will resume next week for those of you who stopped by for that. I had songs all lined up, but it just never materialized.
Here are some of my favorite things I cooked during the month of May. I actually forgot/didn’t photograph a lot of things and if there were a theme it would have been ugly food that tastes good.
