Monday, December 1, 2008


There are some things that have the power to heal.

Like watching Sherlock romp through the doggie playground, chasing the green soft plastic ball with the dedication of a professional athlete, before he crashes into the wire mesh fence like a right fielder flying for the ball;

Fighting with the shells of a dungeness crab with all of my fingers dripping with garlic butter and then slurping up a forkful of garlic noodles as we banter about the election, Thanksgiving, the health risks of eating chicken skin;

Standing above the butternut squash and sweet potato soup, stirring, tasting, and stirring some more, as I strive for perfect spoonfuls that will feed our family;

Feeling the fleshy softness of Jeff's fingers each time he reaches across to hold my hand;

Reading my book under the warmth of Sherlock's body draped across my lap;

Seeing a new bloom on my fuchsia.

I gather these moments and place them side by side. As surely as there are broken days, there are moments like these, filled with life, shaped by happiness. With these moments, I build a giant band-aid to wrap around me, to give me space to heal.


  1. I like this post. It encouraged me today.

  2. It does take courage to grieve, and you are very courageous- altho it probably doesn't feel that way. In the end, I think it's healthier to be honest about the pain, and to work towards the hope that's at the end of the long dark tunnel. :) Keep fighting.

  3. Yes, lots to love about life. Despite pain. I was just thinking the other day that life doesn't have to be perfect. Nothing ever is. If all the various broken and unbroken pieces can somehow come together to make you happy on most days, that's a good life.

    Glad to see that you are doing a bit better, even if it's just a teeny tiny step.