I'd forgotten I can't cry in the spring time.
For one, it should be a time of sweet, bursting joy.
But also, in the spring my skin reacts to tears like they are acid.
I suppose the pollens make me even more sensitive.
I'm feeling raw and touchy. My oldest friend, a time-sealed sister, is getting married this Saturday. Her brother having vanished, we are left with no knowledge of death or location to fill the hole he left us with. She's lost so many people in the past year that it's cruel, and she's losing her Dad by fast degrees to ALS. I know what it is to marry with an absence glaring at you, to feel the press of grief parallel to the joy. For me, my loved ones rallied fiercely and mothered me so hard they helped move the grief aside for the moments I needed. I hope this same alchemy happens for her. I hope the all world that is not Renee & Russ fades out and blurs.
I cry in April for my lost twin-soul-mother. Our birthdays, back-to-back, always one party since I was a woman. I'll cry in May with awe that my daughter has grown more tall, more beautiful, more complex. I held her last night against me and told her the story of her Names. I told her she was once a humming bird in my belly. I told her of the poem that taught me a new word for beautiful: shayne. I told her to remember always that her name means Molly, Beautiful, and that she is a gift from the sky- the birds and stars. I told her her name poem-
Beautiful like the moon,
Shining like the stars,
from Heaven; a gift.
Shayne vie de Lavuna
Lichtig vie de Shterin
Funn himmel a matona
I think I might skip Treasure Nest, but we'll see. It's a day to be quiet and rest and let myself BE. Busy weeks behind and ahead so I'm making a quiet center.