True And Eternal Love

I think perhaps I woke up this morning with an emotion hangover. I don't know. It was like my heart had been too overcome in the last few days, few weeks, and it couldn't hold any more. Add to that, my dreams have been very full of the upcoming trip to St. George Island with my girls. 
My girls. The women with whom I struggled through nursing school, studying, surviving our clinicals, especially the ones we took one summer semester to the Chattahoochee State Hospital which is where we did our psych rotation on locked wards with people who ranged from probably suffering nothing more than having been in an institution their entire lives to at least one woman who had, according to her, uh, killed another patient in a different state hospital. She told us this while we were in a sort of isolated kitchen area making chocolate chip cookies with our patients. 
That was an experience I'll never forget. 
That one and many, many more.
We bonded over all of it and we bonded over going out on Friday nights and dancing to rock and roll bands where we all had our favorite musicians and we let off steam and we sometimes fell in love and we all knew every detail of everyone's love affairs and love encounters and, well, all that stuff, and we got dressed together before we went out and Vicky, our Accessory Expert, would advise us as to belts. "Create a waist," we used to tell each other. 
We got through it all. By the time we graduated, I'd remarried and was expecting my third child- Lily Rose Moon. And by the way, I just found a picture of the day she was born. 

Glen did not have a gray hair that day. 
It was not long after, though, that he began to grow many gray hairs. And yes, I had a perm (it was the 80's) and Hank and May were nine and seven and I was deliriously happy and I think my husband of one year and one month was too. 

But the picture I was looking for is this one. 

1985. 
And yes, they made maternity nursing uniforms. 
The woman on the right there was part of our holy/unholy support coven but she has fallen away from us. Long story. Not the time to tell it. 
But Vicky, the woman next to me, and Terry, the woman next to her, and I, plus another woman who has been Vicky's ride or die forever, are the four who get together on St. George to celebrate ourselves, our seemingly (by now) eternal friendship, our bond formed by such hard work, many tears, so many laughs, and a whole lotta love. 
And every time we meet it's always the same. 
We click right back to where we were. I'm the old one, Terry's the baby, Vicky's a year older than Terry is. I think.
And it's the most wonderful thing in the world while at the same time, it is terrifying for me. 
Here's the question I always ask myself- will they still love me? I am the cynic, the cranky one, the anxious one, the most outspoken one on a whole lot of subjects.
But honestly, that's not the most terrifying thing. 
That would be that one of us has had a diagnosis of cancer for several years now. A serious cancer. And you know it's not me. It's one of my other darling girls and I am terrified that each time we meet, it will be the last time although I have seen no real changes in her, energy or health-wise. She has always been the strongest among us in many ways, and if there has ever been a survivor, it is she. She is an eternally powerful force on this planet for good and for love. And she has much to live for. All of it love.
So there's a whole lot of emotion going into this weekend. Powerful, powerful emotions. I know that we will no doubt cry and we will no doubt roar with laughter and we will no doubt tell each other secrets we don't trust with anyone else. But somehow, just thinking about all of it in the days before we meet up, I become overwhelmed.

It's okay. This is the way I am. 

But I woke up this morning with one of those dreams barely faded and add that to everything that's been going on and it's been one of those days. I do not want to be this way right now. Mr. Moon does not need one more thing to add to his list of shitty stuff he can't control or fix. It's okay, though. I told him a few hours ago that as we know, this will pass. He agreed that I'd taught him that and I think he knows he's not responsible for my damn moods. 

So I just did little things today. I used my new basket to try and organize my yarns and needlework tools. It's a beautiful basket. 

The one on the left. 
There was sorting and untangling involved along with weeding out bits and bobs of yarn I knew were never going to be made into anything and weren't worthy of the space they took up. Let's face it- most of what I have won't be made into anything. I am a lousy needleworker. But I am a fool for beautiful yarns and when I find a stash at a thrift store, I have to bring it home. 
So I managed to cut down on the number of other baskets and bags although I now have two nice, empty baskets I don't need for any purpose I can think of. The bags will join the shopping bags in the trunk of my car. 
And that was something. There is great satisfaction in tidying. 

Here's another thing I did. 

Don't know if you remember but quite possibly at least a year ago, I bought those two lamps in Monticello, ostensibly for the cabin. I finally decided that they were not serving any purpose, stashed away as they have been and who knows when they might make their way to Lake Seminole, so I put them on the old vanity in the hallway where I keep the treasures. 
Not sure I'm really happy about them but it's a change. 

We've gotten a lot of rain today which is a beautiful thing. It has come and it has gone and then it has come again. The temperature has dropped a little. 
Gratefulness is in abundance. 
Oh god. That sounds so new age or something. 
I'll just say I'm happier than hell about it. We're supposed to get more tomorrow. 
Perhaps I'll do a little bit of knitting. Or crocheting. 
We shall see. 

Love...Ms. Moon