(95) restless

This is quite a time, is it not? This is the intersection between what could be said, what needs to be said, and all the things that are simply and not so simply lived.

These are days when I may not deserve to reach the end of my rope, but I still do. When I have to step away from a conversation that I just don’t want to take part in and maybe that’s okay. And maybe it isn’t.

These are the days when the smallest member of the family feels the unsettledness of transition most keenly and wails her angst without ceasing. Life is changing, everything is changing, nothing is changing, and she knows it.

One season ends and another begins. I still expect him to leave and not come back for a while, in a way. Yet, I’m never surprised to see him come into a room. I am needlessly impatient with him, as I always have been. And I am more deeply grateful for him, more than I was before.

Ah yes, and then there was that little thing of a weekend together. It was big, actually, and I may write more with pictures later. We went through water together and were blessed with a weighty grace again and again. And at the end, when our feet were numb from standing for hours and we were flooded with hugs and congratulations, I felt differently toward him, more tender, more bonded, more interwoven.

It’s the middle of the night and I’m the last one up. The neighbor’s sprinklers are on. The living room is a wild collision of 2 households coming and going and no surface left unemployed.

You know what is perhaps strangest of all? Of the five people involved in all this moving and reorganizing and transitioning weekend, my life changes the least. I’m basically staying put. But I still feel unsettled and restless. I am caught up in the surge of this transition and change is inevitable, as always.

So, here’s to a new season! May it be blessed.


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