apparently in a hot white jumpsuit. Well, at least if I’ve got to do it, I may as well look fashionable. Of course my 11 year old is with me all the way, holding my hand. I’d never let him go. Everyone else? Not sure. My kids are fine. They know I love them and they’re smart and sweet and well-equipped for the fire. Take care of myself? Great idea. Do I remember how? Do you remember? It’s been a long time, right? Somewhere in between the meals and the homework and the oil changes we forget to look in the mirror. Maybe that’s a good thing. We may be shocked at what we see. When did THAT happen?
It’s so trite, but I’ve been thinking about how fast life goes by. I just don’t want to waste a single minute, and yet a part of me feels like I’ve been holding my breath for the past 20 years, kind of just waiting… for what? Oh, I don’t know. Till the oldest kids are in college, till my youngest starts school, till he finishes school, till I lose weight, till my back feels better, till I recuperate from Mom’s death. Waiting…
So at least now apparently I’m not waiting, but I’m walking… through fire. Be patient. Concentrate on all of the good. I can’t. Sorry. I’m tired. Let me rephrase that - I FEEL tired. You’re not supposed to say “I am” unless you’re very careful what you say right after that, because then you’re telling the Universe what you ARE. I figure if I write it as a contraction, then it doesn’t count. So… I’m tired. At least I still have my sense of humor. Kind of. Short sentences are not a good thing in my world. Means I’m running out of words. But maybe that a good thing? I’ve seen reference several times to the power of remaining silent. Hmmm - novel concept. I tried it down in New Mexico one year, from a Thursday evening through a Saturday morning. Was pretty good, although I listened to music (they said not to, but I just couldn’t help it - Frank Sinatra got me through it in relatively one piece). But what I noticed when I got home was that my family didn’t like it when I was quiet. At one point all four of them were standing over me, talking at me at the same time. It was excruciating. Too much.
Can I remain silent as I walk through the fire? Do I HAVE to be patient? Do I have to trust, or is it enough that I’m walking? Hell, I don’t know how many others are walking through fire, but I’m guessing quite a few. Isn’t it enough that we’re all just continuing to walk? There are other options, you know. Like sit and say, “No, that’s okay - I’m fine where I am. Whatever.” But no - still we walk, and yes, I think we’re either stupid or really trusting, or maybe a little of both. At least I have the jumpsuit - at least I have that. I’ll let you know when I’m through it. When you smell the singe of burning hair, you’ll know.