I broke last night.
I broke, I shattered, there were pieces of me everywhere on the floor and in the walls and under the rug and there was no end to the tears.
I used to do this all the time.
Now hardly ever.
When it happens, there is no way to predict it, there is no way to end it until it is ended. I shatter and shatter until there is nothing left and then there is the aftermath and I gather all the splinters and sweep them up and rearrange them as best I can and go to bed.
And so it was and so it is.
The sun is shining this morning, it is clean washed by all the rain, bright as a lighthouse bright as a newly minted dime, bright as the diamonds that dance on the waves and the sky is blue like the eye of Norwegian God.
Last night my boys were so sweet when I babysat them before I broke, before I had the slightest idea I was going to. They smushed me with their love and Gibson cried to go home with me and they're coming soon and Boppy is going to come home, that good man, that man who has had to watch me shatter so many times and who holds me so tightly to help the pieces all fit together again, to play with them and my hands know how to do the turkey, the cornbread, the sweet potatoes. My hands know how to roll out the pie crust. My hands know how to do it all, they barely need me.
And as I cook and tend, I am tending and feeding myself on this good day of sun and golden leaves and orange cat who shines in the sun like one of the leaves, she washes her face, she is gleaming and the little one, the little cat, she needs me and I think I survive, have survived, by being needed.
By being loved.