Nine days ago, a handyman came to our house. He replaced five broken panes of glass, and two broken storm doors.
Today, I got my answer to the unspoken question, how long will our house remain in one piece?
Last week was really terrible. My response to almost every situation was tears. I was miserable. One day, I went for a walk alone to the library and passed a house that had been decorated for Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras! The green, yellow, and purple decorations were festive and beautiful. Seeing it made me happy.
Over the weekend, things got better gradually. On Sunday night, I went out and bought supplies for Carnival masks. I thought to myself, that was it. I’m over (or through?) the pandemic wall. I’ve done enough grieving about not traveling this year. There’s no school this week. Things are going to be great. I’ll make a short to-do list and be kind to myself about it. I’ll be less stressed because I won’t be doing school with the kids in addition to feeding, supervising, and managing my household. Maybe I’ll want to craft again!
Did you read anything romantic for Valentine’s Day this year?
I don’t think much of Valentine’s Day as a holiday and didn’t plan anything at all – even our traditional candlelit dinner didn’t happen this year because pandemic apathy yawned and swallowed me whole. But last week, I read a few books that are appropriate for this time of year, and I want to share them with you.
Is the New Year a new start for you?
It generally hasn’t been for me. I much prefer the new book smell of fall for my fresh starts. New Year’s felt forced. I often worked that night and had to ask my patients the date every hour all night long. It confused all of us and constantly reminded us of the passage of time, blurring the effect of waking up to a fresh beginning in the new year.
This year was a bit different, right? A bit of a dumpster fire, by some estimates. Way out of bounds for what most of us expected.
The end of 2020 felt like the perfect time to embrace all that New Year’s had to offer.
The Chaplain is working more. I am walking, sewing, and reading less and parenting more. Quiet time has become an elusive ghost of a former life when I got to be alone for a period of time each day.
It feels like we are all in a constant negotiation for what we need, the kids and The Chaplain and I, and none of us are quite getting what we’re looking for.
So it was as we rearranged our dining room around a new piece of furniture, and my grandmother’s teacups came to the kids’ attention. They asked if we could have a tea party.
