Let Us Rest Sweetly

It's been a hard day and I'm not sure why. Part of it was that my morning self-hatred extended into my entire day. Even when I was with Owen, there was a part of me (that evil, weird part which I wish with all my heart that I could exorcise) which kept whispering that Owen deserves a better grandmother than me.
And I know that's not true. I am not the world's best grandmother, I am sure, but I am a fine one. I doubt any other could love him more than I do. And I had such a good time with him, mostly running after him and preventing him from eating strange things or pulling heavy objects down on himself. I can turn around now and go put a towel in the laundry basket and he's disappeared from the kitchen, two steps away by the time I get back. My heart always sinks and then I find him, usually hiding behind a door, waiting for me to discover him so he can laugh at me. And laugh he does, full-throated and head thrown back and I grab him up and gather him to me and we laugh together.
How can my heart be weary when I'm having that sort of day?
Well, who knows?
It would have been a much worse one without him.

Dress rehearsal went so well. Ah- what fine actors these four people are. Each so very different, each with such gifts and they have all worked so hard. We have settled into a fine little family, the actors and the production crew and Jan and I. I have been given the task of turning on the house lights and turning them off and there is no doubt I'm going to fuck that up. It's such a simple thing, but I'm sure I'll screw it up somehow.
I apologize in advance.
But it'll be all right. I'm sure. And I did have a good time tonight but suppose I miss Kathleen being at the Opera House. Okay. I know I do.
She is the very best at whatever task she takes on and I think of the way during one play when I had so many impossibly fast costume changes she would make sure I had everything on before I went back onstage in the proper order of characters and she made fresh chicken salad every night for our prop food (fresh chicken salad! with blue cheese!) and bought the finest bread, too, to go with it. I mean- who DOES that?
Certainly not me. But Kathleen did.
Yes. I miss her there.

And tomorrow she and Judy and I will head up to see her oncologist and then, if all the bloodwork comes out okay, we'll trot over to the hospital and she'll lay down on a bed in a small room with no TV and Judy and I will cram ourselves against the wall to keep out of the way and they'll put that IV needle in and that's never any fun at all. She'll sit there with her bald head, looking for all the world like a Pixie, an elf, and she'll joke and she won't complain and we'll chat and we'll let her sleep if she wants while the medicine drips into her veins, her roly-hard-to-hit veins.
It'll be nice when the volunteers come around with tea and fancy cookies. I'm looking forward to that, but I'll probably just keep drinking the everlasting cup of coffee I keep going while we're there. We'll try to get Kathleen to eat something, perhaps have some tea, but it's so hard for her to eat and drink now. She told me that her goal now is to be able to eat an entire slice of pizza by her next chemo treatment and I think that's a fine goal.

To be hungry and not be able to eat- what a mean trick that is! And she doesn't complain. She just states the truth and there it is and what can you say?
Fuck cancer.

Well. I better get to bed. It's been a long day. Mr. Moon is home and he replaced the batteries in the smoke alarm so I don't have to worry about that tonight.

I hope my dreams steer me to a place as I sleep which, when I awake and embark from, I feel better about myself because honestly, I have my problems but I don't need to add self-hatred to them. Self-disgruntledness would be fine. I could deal with that.

Let us all have good dreams. Let us all be aware that we are fine, mostly, just as we are, that no, we are not perfect, but no one is and until a perfect human walks down the street, we'll do.
We'll do.

We'll do and we'll do and we'll keep on doing, even in our imperfection, even as we try our best, even as somewhere in our imperfect hearts we know that's the best we can do.