(no subject)
Jun. 11th, 2011 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tropeFirst rule of LJDW: post first, read colleagues later. My brilliant post is gone. Instead, I shall saddle you with this somewhat-less-brilliant post.
We *will* have a birthday party tomorrow. It will not rain. I am nervous and edgy about this whole experience but it is going to turn out just fine.
I had another rotten day at work, as is recently my wont, and let it bleed into the rest of my lovely day. Then I read that my friend at church, Ron, passed away this week. I read from our minister's statement that he was about twenty years older than I'd assumed, and I knew he was not in great health. I'm still shocked and sad. And suddenly I'm questioning why on earth I care what other people think of me, or how they can be so vicious and impulsive when good people are dying, every day of the week, and we are so wrapped in our own drama that we don't even notice.
***
My child turns four today. I remember being awake at this time of night, in the hospital with C sleeping on the couch next to me, and dimly realizing that the infant that I'd pulled over to hold wasn't a doll or a pet or a test, but an impossibly small person and a new member of my family. Today, he is a delightful, witty, stubborn-as-hell little boy, who can only be considered "my baby" in that metaphorical way. I feel proud that we both made it this far and pretty excited for what comes next.
We *will* have a birthday party tomorrow. It will not rain. I am nervous and edgy about this whole experience but it is going to turn out just fine.
I had another rotten day at work, as is recently my wont, and let it bleed into the rest of my lovely day. Then I read that my friend at church, Ron, passed away this week. I read from our minister's statement that he was about twenty years older than I'd assumed, and I knew he was not in great health. I'm still shocked and sad. And suddenly I'm questioning why on earth I care what other people think of me, or how they can be so vicious and impulsive when good people are dying, every day of the week, and we are so wrapped in our own drama that we don't even notice.
***
My child turns four today. I remember being awake at this time of night, in the hospital with C sleeping on the couch next to me, and dimly realizing that the infant that I'd pulled over to hold wasn't a doll or a pet or a test, but an impossibly small person and a new member of my family. Today, he is a delightful, witty, stubborn-as-hell little boy, who can only be considered "my baby" in that metaphorical way. I feel proud that we both made it this far and pretty excited for what comes next.
