I have to say, the past several weeks have been maelstrom of spring cleaning.
A time of renewal.
Outdoors, the gadda is coming back into glorious bloom following February's hard freezes.
We have been painting, moving, removing, moving around, moving back, boxing, passing along as well as good old fashioned trashing.
Once again, nature becomes a metaphor for my personal spring cleaning (nothing to do with finding a sparkling washcloth either!)
For the past several years, a stronger, more mature self has been crying for hearing. She has been tearing at her own skin from the inside, in order to get out.
So, during the fifth month of the next chapter of my life, I found myself being wholely affected by the longer days, shorter nights, thoughts that ambush me during my quiet times ...
A perfect storm has come together, creating optimum conditions for very accute panic attacks. The kind that have you holding onto a heavy object just to stop yourself from being swept away by the tornado of visions, thoughts, memories, longings.
It's called mourning. That is what I am told.
It fucking sucks!
Can't believe Mummy has been here for a week already, less than a week left. Her visit coincides with an extended spring break.
Translation: no kids!
Our babies are Florida beach kids, all the way. Volleyball, fishing, swimming, friends, music, soda, pizza & cell phones.
Life is, indeed, a beach!
I have missed writing but it is not that I have been without Good 'n' Plenty to say. Just to busy puking or holding my discombobulated head or digging myself out of a potential Vesuvius of paperwork.
In the meantime, should Lili & I eat in, go out for sushi just the two of us or should we find out if our beloved children care to grace us with their company ...
As I said before, life's a beach!