Becky's Greatest Hits Vol. II

 Yesterday I planted marigolds. 21 days later and I planted flowers.  I dug and I cried and wondered and thought and dug again.  I wiped my hands on my pants and wiped my eyes on my sleeve.  I sat on my carport and listened to the evening birdsong.  I considered that in nature, when birds sing, it means danger is far away.  But is it ever truly far away?  My neighbor came out and told me that his brother-in-law died in a horrific highway accident. No, danger is never far away. And I wondered where you were 21 days in.  Are you floating above us watching us cry?  Are you reincarnated into a beautiful baby boy in Indonesia?  Are you happy are you sad are you anything?  Do you miss us or remember us at all?  Are you skateboarding in your new body?  Are you Patrick Swayze searching for your Whoopi Goldberg interpreter? What do I believe now that I've crossed over the dividing line of middle age about what comes next?  We ...

 I went to the library this past week and remembered how much I loved it.  Just sitting there, staring up at its gorgeous skylight windows.  I love those windows. I wondered how many times I've come back here when life has let me down.   I forgot how much I loved sitting among people....just sitting with a quiet hum and bustle around me.  Complete safety, no expectations, no need to move or talk or even smile.  No need to spend energy or money.  Just being.  I indulged in the joy of perusing the stacks. I looked at and picked up books I will probably never read. I imagined lives I will never live, places I will never go.   I watched people, young and old.  People like me who count the library as their "third place" .  People who can come back and feel at home no matter how long they've been gone.  The library always welcomes you back.  It doesn't remind you of your mistakes.  The doors open and you immediate...

 I remember when Mrs. Patmore said this.  And it has played on repeat in my head for a week now. And I remember Daisy innocently asking "did it make you feel better?" And I can't remember what Mrs. Patmore's response was.  My guess is, she probably doesn't remember, but at the time, it was good enough. For a week now, I can't eat or sleep enough.  At first I was trying to stay medicated just to "get through it" until I realized it was making me feel scared and thoroughly paranoid.  A dear friend recommended I stay sober (at least through the funeral in 2 weeks) and another recommended I at least examine why I wanted to stay under the influence.  All of it good advice.  And everything, ISTG, everything has taken a Herculean effort.  Getting out of bed, thinking about dressing, actually dressing and Jesus H putting on makeup.  And don't get me started on driving. Nearly 1 week away from work, and I'm at least trying to show up for that. I just ...