Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A Blue Christmas
My husband left for Mexico last night. His mother is sick and they are very worried about her so he went. He won't be back until 2 days after Christmas and it is all very unexpected and I feel strange to not have him here. I'll be okay, it's just taking my mind a little bit of time to adjust.
But of course, it isn't really about me, it's about her. I don't really have a good idea of how she is yet. I will hear more in the next few days. I'm hoping that they are all just being really careful and that it isn't as bad as it sounds, but I just don't know yet. Unfortunately, it sounds like it could be CHF.
The word for Grandmother in spanish is Abuela (Ah-bway-lah). When my older daughter was small she used to call her Grandmother Umbrella (Oom-bray-lah).
Well, it's so nice to be off of work and have time to just be, I have had no time for this in such a long time. I am thinking about a lot of things that I plan to share but in the meantime, I would like to leave you with a poem that I discovered.
I hope that you enjoy it!! (Hope it isn't too sappy!)
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to the silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth before anyone said so.
The cat sleeping on the ledge is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to the floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not famous at all to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to the shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole,
not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgets what it could do.
Namoi Shihab Nye
in Hugging the Jukebox
"The man who is often thinking that it is better to be somewhere other than where he is excommunicates himself."
Henry David Thoreau