journal entry from 1.8.2011

“less than 4 weeks after giving birth to my dead child, i walked onto a college campus as a student for the first time in 7 years. it was january, the dead of winter, the dead of everything.

i arrived early, breathing in the crisp soft dewy bright morning, and sidled in the back of the classroom. history 101: ancient to medieval. studied my fellow classmates, bleary-eyed youths with secrets.

i have a secret. i am bleeding and leaking milk and suppressing tears that wouldn’t come even if i stopped suppressing. i adjust my new dress to hide my protruding stomach and secret stretch marks. i am afraid to look up, wondering if my eyes betray my soul. i doubt it; pretty sure that mostly happens in books. how often do we see past the pain in our own eyes well enough to see it in others’? blind and dark in fog, each head in its own cloud.

and the rest of this fiction is yet to be written, because this hasn’t actually happened yet. tonight is sunday night. tomorrow is monday, or is forever monday? it starts with history 101. then beginning art history. then, much later, spanish 101. the day after, web design 101. 16 credits of coping 101. starting over 101. living with no sky 101.

tomorrow is the 8th anniversary of either the day that joel asked me to be his girlfriend or of our first date. neither of us remember. 8 years is enough time to forget. 25 days isn’t.

25 days since i birthed my beautiful sky. 27 days since he left his body and my body to be somewhere else … somewhere far away, past my cloud of pain and their clouds of whatever and the winter sun and tentative morning sky somewhere over the rainbow refracted through tears that i cannot shed.

it’s my first day of school.”

every day is still 101, but even in a 101 class you start to learn and know. i’m still in history 101, but now i know more about the greeks. i’m still in spanish 101, but i can say, “mi hijo cielo” now.

i’m learning.


1 thought on “monday”

  1. You are learning. I am so amazed at the work of God’s grace in your life. To see you learning is amazing. And to see you teaching others is even more incredible. I was touched by your profound statement, “how often do we see past the pain in our own eyes well enough to see it in others’?” Thank you.

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