I am, yet again, up too late. My ideal life lets me stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning and sleep in until around 10. Someday, baby. Someday I will get there.
So. It's been a wine kind of night. And I've been thinking about this year, and all the life that has happened.
Before E was born a family came to our sunday morning meeting place. It's a Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, which means no preacher, all religions are fine, even athiests. It's liberal religion. And damn proud of it. A former member came back with her husband and son, and gave a Service on being a mother. Mother, I mean. With the capital. It was shortly after a miscarriage and pregnancy terminated due to a lethal defect. I didn't know it a the time, but I was pregnant with E. I ended up leaving the service and going into the bathroom to lose my shit, quietly, when the speaker-the Mother-asked everyone to get together into small groups and talk about their experiences as parents. I couldn't do it.
As you can imagine, the memory sticks out. And now that woman is dying of cancer. Not dealing with, or treating. but dying of. She wrote a post a few days ago about how she only has a few months to live, and asked for any suggestions of things she leave for her kids to remember her by. She is also spending every minute she can with them.
I want to fix her. I want to help. To stop this. To give her the time to watch her children grow. To have secrets. To fall in love. To go to a dance, or to have a child. I still remember her long black braid, and her story about her son, who started kindergarten this year, finally ate a whole sweet potato. Her husband played the banjo and had a rat tail. I think. He's fuzzy.
It's just too short. And too beautiful to let go, doesn't it seem? It can also seem so cruel.
So as not to be a total downer, and giving me hope that things are still OK most of the time, here are some images from the Hubble.
And now it's time for me to go to sleep, and hope for extra sleep tomorrow.