Some days are so full of wondrous life and blog-worthy moments that there just isn't time to record them.
Some days are so full of darkening details, sickness and sorrow, and necessary busyness that there is no time (or strength) to record any of it.
We have had a lot of both lately.
As I type, we are somewhere in the desert between Flagstaff and Albuquerque, returning home after a much-needed Thanksgiving vacation with Gabriel's family in California. A vacation that almost didn't happen because of a nasty virus that had me still in bed when we had already planned to be at the beach. But we made it, and it was worth the long drive, even for a shortened visit, and even though we will still be driving until tomorrow.
This next week will be right back into the thick of reality. Monday morning, i will be back at work since I am still filling in as the kitchen manager at Brighthaven, River is getting tubes in his ears on Wednesday, and Forest flies out on Thursday because of the ever-developing family drama. And Gabriel will be gone on business all week. Yes, right back into the thick of reality.
Yet we have still had some great moments these past few weeks: nearly 2 weeks with Molly and Andres, Halloween at the Tulsa Zoo, a much-longed for visit with Crystal, Simone, and Everett, and Linda's baby shower. Those pictures are all piled on my hard drive, waiting for attention.
Finding the time for everything is just not possible right now, which is much easier for me to write than the daily practice of actually letting go of some things.
But reexamining priorities is always a good thing. So is letting go of expectations, like our plans to move. It seems as if we are still supposed to be in Arkansas. At least for now. We are adjusting to that idea.
A little over a week ago now, Gabriel tended to some necessary business with our backyard hens. One of them, a Rhode Island Red, had been afflicted with terrible diarrhea for over a month. I kept expecting to find her dead, but then another hen came down with it. All of my research pointed to the same conclusion: we had to cull the flock, killing the two sick hens in order to save our other ladies.
Gabe chopped off their heads, and Liam watched. Well, he wanted to see the first one and then opted out of witnessing the second. He was so matter of fact about it, coming into the house and announcing "Daddy is cutting up our sick chickens." I asked him if it was sad. He said yes, but didn't seem traumatized in any way. Facts of life, I suppose.
But it was hard on Gabe, the slaughtering.
And to add to that day's sadness, a strong gust of wind cracked the trunk of the maple tree we had grown from a seedling since we bought our house nearly 8 years ago. Cutting it to the ground was even more of a loss to my poor husband than the death of our chickens.
Sometimes being the grown up means doing the terribly difficult things that have to be done. And he did. I am so proud of him.
Sometimes some things have to go in order for life to go on. This blog isn't one of those things. I still need it as a record and an outlet. But as long as I am still working, I will be pressed for time to actually use this space. Hopefully, it won't be too much longer. I am ready for things to calm down again, but in the meantime, I am trying to be grateful for this crazy season.
