Sometimes life is just like this, I guess.
I could pass.
I've been trying to come up with a decent analogy (without much luck, I'm afraid). This is the best I can do.
It's like you've been planning for a beautiful hike. Backpack is stocked with everything you need for a full day: water, snack, sunscreen. Even a snakebite kit. You've got your maps, you've checked in with the park ranger and you're committed to staying on the easy trail. You're having a fabulous time, overwhelmed by the silence and the beauty. Off to your left there's a flash of color and your eyes lock onto something rare here - a Western Bluebird. For a few seconds, just a few steps, you continue to walk as you watch the bird and...
You come to at the bottom of a deep hole.
I suppose there are some people who would look around and say, "Well, my goodness. Isn't this inconvenient. Here, let me make a calm and logical plan and initiate next steps."
I don't hang out with those people.
No, for me it's instant panic. Weeping for my own death. Scrambling through the backpack, tearing pages out of the journal to leave last love letters to my family.
It takes me hours - or days - to calm down enough to smack myself out of hysteria. And realize that I will get out of the hole one way or another, and then to start that slow, careful process.
Anyway, one of my kids has been going through a rough year (or two, or three in this economy) and it just got rougher. Even if I were in a financial position to fix it - which I'm not - I'm not sure I should.
What has helped me the most is reading Anne Lamott. I'm addicted to her combination of humor, common sense and faith. I've been reading Some Assembly Required, the journal of her grandson's first year, and taking massive instruction from her on how to stay the hell out of my child's life.
It's a Cancer thing, I guess, this desire to jump in and fix It. Protective, but clinging.
That says it all. Especially the clinging part.
I baked yesterday. Have been cleaning the kitchen for two days. Still not "done" but oh, to not have that chaos is so comforting. The rest of the house should be done by the end of next week.
I'm gettin' out of Dodge. It's Friday. Today I'm going to write a little, sew for a while, wash my car and pack for an overnight with my Mom. Tomorrow is our day with my sister. Home tomorrow night, then off again to Venice for a morning with a good friend and the I AM bunch.
Monarchs are munching milkweed in a pot on the kitchen table. The Creamsicle brug is in full bloom, all colors from pure vanilla ice cream to orange sherbet. So far this week I've seen a roadrunner in my courtyard (after the lizards everywhere, I'm sure), ladybug larvae (after the aphids on the milkweed) and, of course, the baby Monarch cats here and there.
Yes, feeling better now.