Three years ago Saturday, I interviewed for the open job coach position at PRIDE Industries.
Three years ago after that interview, I drove to the hospital in Placerville, to surround my grandma with love and family as she passed into Heaven.
The last few months have been a whirlwind for us.
Last Tuesday night I couldn’t sleep, so I got out of bed at 11 and wrote at my desk until I felt tired. I made very few corrections to this piece, just added connecting phrases that make it flow better.
I need to start remembering that June is a busy month for us. The weekend leading up Illuminate’s blog hop was Ant’s birthday-Father’s Day-Mom’s birthday-overnights all in one. SO. I missed the blog hop deadline, but the words are still worth sharing.
For whatever reason tonight is one of those nights where I am awake. My eyes are heavy and I feel tired. But I’m at my writing desk instead of sleeping. And so, instead of fighting it or watching Critical Role, I gave in and got up.
And I don’t know if it’s the words swirling around inside of me, wanting out, in ink, on paper, just out of my brain.
Memories for the days of 3/14 to 3/20.
The ones that are italicized represent what was happening a year ago this week, interspersed with the things favorite people on social media were saying.
I tend to do this with a lot things–I remember what happened a year ago on seemingly random days. This week in 2021 was a good week, healthy mentally and emotionally, spiritually and physically. We’re able to see people and hang out and it feels normal. This time last year wasn’t like that and I don’t want to forget what last year looked like in comparison, what we went through to get to where we are today.
These are the days…
It’s dark and cloudy outside. NorCal’s expecting another storm tomorrow. I haven’t left the house all day (thanks new cycle) and the words are bubbling up, so let’s try this weekly reflection that Emily P. Freeman talks about and see how it goes for me. Memories from the week of Sunday, March 6th to yesterday, Saturday, March 13th.
These are the days of…
I have always been a recorder at heart. I keep planners and old calendars. I’ve journaled irregularly since forever. I went through a bullet journal phase. (I made my own versions in blank Moleskines. Multiples of them.) I love keeping a record of memories and events. I love being able to look back and see videos and pictures from where Ant and I were three years ago . . . five years ago . . . seven years ago. And I am finally committing to this season’s “What I Learned.” It originates from Emily, a blogger, author, and podcast host. She writes beautiful words and I’ve been a fan of her blog for awhile now. I just read her post on what she learned this past winter and was reminded once again that it doesn’t have to be extensive, in-depth, detailed, or an essay written about each thing.
I’m just going to jump in and write this.
Here we go:
I have two poems for you today to start off this round of the 30 Day Haiku Project.
three cats, writer wife
snuggle in blankets. gamer
husband plays the keyboard
This is literally what we’re doing this morning—er, afternoon—and it makes me so happy.
Dear Vox Machina, Enola Holmes, Addie LaRue, and Coco,
You are the stories I’ve shared my last week and this weekend with. You have forever reinforced that stories are hard and heart-breaking, but beautiful and worth every minute spent with them.
Back where I started my day
Except it’s 9 o’clock at night,
not 6 o’clock in the morning.
I’ve showered and am letting my hair dry before sleep.
Ant’s already in bed. It’s backwards.
I’m so far removed from the emotions of this morning
My head is clearer now than it was then
We achieved a long-time-comin’ goal and now I’m afraid it’s not good enough.
On May 29th, 2020, Anthony and I wrapped up May’s budget and made our final debt payment on the student loan.
Day 22 “lessons from quarantine”
here, today, right now
the only moment we have
i’m embracing it
This one came to me while putting away today’s second load of laundry. How do you wrap up an entire 157 days worth of lessons in 17 syllables?