today is the warmest, prettiest day since sky died. the sky is fading off in palest blues and yellows against the spiky silhouette of our wormy apple tree. i am spending this twilight starting intensely through the washed out colors of the sunset, itching for different. i want to feel something different, do something different, be something different.
losing a child is big. it is a big thing. and i am determined to feel it, to experience and learn from it. i will not be unchanged. my current conceptions are not big enough to hold the bigness of losing a baby. my tidy box of life, expectations, and trust has been blown wide open, scattering still-pulsing bits far, far away. i must go find them. i will bring them back, dust them off, and carefully piece them back together in new designs until life makes sense again.
also, what the heck did that paragraph mean? what a lot of dreamwords, strung together in sentences that sound huge and meaningful and mobilizing. it’s easy to live in a dreamworld at twilight, especially with atmospheric music softening the edges of reality. but really, i have no idea how i will go about finding errant pulsing life pieces and dusting them and whatever else i said i was going to do with them. maybe I’ll have a few minutes for soul searching tomorrow between classes.
and i know that, tomorrow, the mundane will form a hedge around the dreamworld unrest of twilight. but that unrest will still simmer there, prompting an unrelenting quest for deeper understanding, a quest that will take the rest of my life.
losing a child is big.