After my April post on traumatic stress had diminished, I began to warm up to Spring and the hope it brings. Eventually I was convinced by May’s visual barrage of green and the loud insistent chorus of birds to accept Spring’s arrival of Hope.
We’ve taken strolls and played in new sandbox sand. Powerwashed and pruned. Fiona’s “eaten” dirt and rocks, of course.
That communing with the Earth that seems so come Summer necessary.
As our memories of Easter egg hunting fun fade, we are moving on to harder memories to bear. Today’s post brings with it a wish for a Happy Birthday to my dear Mother-In-Law and a prayer and sadness for the failing health of my Father-In-Law.
My husband took pictures of the children to the hospital and wrote on the bottom in silver sharpie, “Our children are our legacy.”
Life is the garden for us to plant ourselves in. And his family has rooted themselves strongly with their love for one another. They may have misunderstandings and dysfunctions and they still show up for each other. Devotion and identity.
We are taking each day given to us as a blessing, revering our perspective, and just getting through the best we can. Our children will learn as we do. With grace and weakness and love, the Summer is about to move us on through our grief.
I’m reminded every year how much I love the weeds that Summer brings. Fields of buttercups, clover, and Queen Anne’s Lace steal my heart and suggest for those listening, seasons will circle around again and again and,one day, pass me by too with their return.