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When Nothing Else Could Help

Amanda Greene photo for the Bitter Southerner. Join their cause here.

Maybe 2019 wasn’t so bad after all.

There seems to be a collective sense that it’s better for us to write off the year 2019–put it in the file, put the file in the cabinet, shut the drawer, lock the thing up, turn out the lights, go home. Too much strife, too much difficulty, too much suffering.

I get it. This hasn’t been the easiest year. Aside from the general angst about the state of the world, it’s been a tough year personally. We lost my step-mother, Mary, quite unexpectedly in March. A big part of our family’s life has changed as a result. There have been dark, difficult, aching times since.

Yesterday started at the dentist’s office, continued to the tire shop (new shoes for my MDX, which cost roughly twice as much as my first car), but immediately got better when Kel and I took the kiddos to Hickory for some play time at the mall and Chuck E. Cheese. (Thanks to Mimi and Poppy for the gift cards!) We picked up a couple of things we needed and came home to an unseasonably warm afternoon. The kids played outside in the back yard, Kel worked on supper, and I sat out on the deck, the setting sun warm, the air still.

Be it hereby resolved

Laboring Away

As of September 2nd, 2018, I am…

Relieved by: so far being able to manage work, board memberships, volunteer efforts, and graduate school requirements. It’s not neat and tidy, and I have never felt my life so full, but so far I’ve tightened everything down and tried to awaken every ounce of discipline and keep myself on task. It’s working. Perhaps I’m a little bit surprised–but only because I’ve never had this many balls in the air. I won’t waste too much time bragging on myself, lest I drop one.

Grateful for: the last week of open pools. This swimming season has flown by. We switched our pool membership this year, opting for the local club pool instead of the rec center water park. Fewer of Kel’s students show up–not that it’s a bad thing, but just that it’s less relaxing when you’re mobbed by little people incredibly excited to see you. Looking back at what I’d written just a couple of months ago, it’s remarkable to see how far our kids have come as swimmers. Julia and Thomas have both earned their own passes; both jump off diving boards and into deep ends with nary a flotation device nearby. And Annie gleefully jumps in and doesn’t want to leave. I’ll be sad (especially since the weather’s still hot) to not have this as a destination. 

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