I didn't take pictures today, I haven't answered comments. The day has been full although it doesn't seem like I've done very much. We had a little good-bye luncheon for Jessie at El Patron- even May and Michael got to come, as did Hank, Lily, and Mr. Moon, Jessie and the boys and me. And after lunch I hung out with August and Levon so that Jessie could get a few more things together for the tiny home they will be hauling to North Carolina to live in this summer.
It was a good time, although I was mostly quiet, I think. My heart feels like a rock in a tumbler, my head is a whirling dervish of dancing devils as I try to be sensible and get over myself with my silly worries and fears, even as I feel numb with the knowledge that part of my family is going off for a few months.
It'll be all right. It will be fine. It will be terrific for the Weatherfords to spend time on Vergil's mountain where he grew up, where his family is. Those boys need to know all about that and they need to know their cousins and other grandparents, their other aunt and uncle. They need to explore the mountain creeks and rivers, they need to experience bear sightings, not just gator sightings. They need to help Vergil's mother in her beautiful garden and hear the stories she needs to tell them. They need to take fiddle lessons and engage in the sort of amazingly creative and artistic play and life that the other side of their family is so very good at.
And we'll be up to see them next month.
I know all of this but I also know that I have to go through a time of grieving. A little time of being quiet with my own turmoil and thoughts and my own life as well as the lives of my other children and grandchildren. Owen and Gibson and Maggie are now out of school for the summer and it is time to have new adventures with them.
When I had my second child I was made aware of how a heart is never too small to hold all of the love it is presented with. It grows with each new person to love, each child, each grandchild. Unlike with money, with time, with resources, there is no limit to love. With each new beloved, the capacity of the heart is magically enlarged, as if part of the gift of a new love is that each of them open wide a door which had been shut in our souls that we had not even known was there to reveal a whole other room, a space, a sanctuary just waiting for that new love to settle into.
And those rooms, those spaces, are endless. Even in our often broken, battered hearts. Maybe especially in those.
At least this is what I think and this is what I'm contemplating tonight.
Meanwhile the chickens are pecking about the bird feeder, hunting for every seed kicked off by the wild birds as they dine. Liberace is standing tall guard, knowing that the end of the day is the most dangerous time of all as the birds of prey are on the hunt for food. Yesterday at the river we saw a pair of swallow-tail kites, as elegant as any bird who ever lived, their bodies streamlined and clothed in simple and sharp lines of black and white, they can fly so high your eye loses them and I watched them dive into the river for fish and it was one more reason that I have been feeling more and more grateful to live where it is green and alive with the wild things we can see and that we cannot see, hidden in the woods and underneath the water, moving slowly and swiftly, living entire lives of their own as the sun and the moon make their cycles of appearance and disappearance, as the tides rise and fall, as the water bubbles up from the deepest depths of the aquifers, as the resulting rivers flow slowly to the Gulf, as the winds and the breezes perform their own eternal dances, as the seasons step onstage at their prescribed times to perform their specific parts in the story, as the planet spins and hurtles through space and time, as we hold on and try to understand and make sense of it all with our eyes that see and do not see, our hearts that yearn and reach for the truth of it, the comfort of it, the enormity of it, the microscopic meaning of it.
All of it.
All of it.