Sunday, July 5, 2009

a hole inside

good things (aka, stuff i'm grateful for at present)

-new sheets, soft and stain-free
-chloe sunglasses for a mere fraction of the original cost (thank you, tj maxx)
-that i love what i'm reading, even the stuff for school
-no work tomorrow morning -- getting to sleep in, at least a little bit
-a wonderful weekend with andy, full of good food and conversation -- having a best friend like andy in the first place
-the pillow i made this morning -- that the materials cost me all of three bucks
-that i'm moving to berlin soon
-peanut butter m&m's
-a strong, tight-knit family


other things

my aunt passed away tragically and very unexpectedly this weekend. while i've been attempting to focus on the positive (see above) and give my mind a reprieve, it seems to wander back to the same old questions, trying to piece together the incomprehensible. but even amidst the messiness of it all, i know i will remember:

-her handwriting in birthday cards
-the fact that my birthday was remembered each year
-teacher supplies, handed down or bought just because (whether for me or for the kids i happened to be working with at a particular time)
-superior organization skills, especially as evidenced at the time of g'ma miller's death and in putting together the "girls' weekend" at lake geneva
-soap operas on the t.v. in the kitchen during summer weeks in springfield when i was a kid
-receiving my very first weeble, along with an explanation of what it was, one christmas

...among numerous other flashes and feelings.

when ol' golly leaves in the film version of harriet the spy, harriet says, "there's this tiny hole inside me that wasn't there before." my heart goes out to everyone my aunt loved, especially her girls (baby included) and husband. i'm sure for them, it's a big, gaping hole that will never quite be filled as it once was. everything and nothing is the same. and i can't help but shrug and shake my head and think: all we can do is love - life, each other - and keep putting one foot in front of the other. eventually we'll walk ourselves back into a time for dancing.