I love this one extra-especially….because there’s just no reason for writing it except that there is an absurd beauty in the “sideways” moments and days of life. You showed me that beauty. Thank you.
Your words bring back memories of caring for my boys when they were little. My older son, who is now 27, had surgery some months ago, and when they wheeled him back into the ward all I wanted to do was take him in my arms, but I couldn't. He has grown up, and our bond is expressed now mostly in deep conversations, which is also wonderful. You will never regret being there for your little bundle of fire.
Carri, I can imagine feeling just the way you did about your grown son, and feeling that way about my girls to the end of my days--wanting to hold them. At 9 and 13, they rarely let me do it now.
I always cringe when I get that early morning text message that one of my two grandkids are sick or off from school. This week it was the oldest (6) sick, and the youngest (4) off. I got nothing done today but, hey. There's always tomorrow. So glad it was a short one for the six year old. He ate a full dinner this evening.
Oh, gosh. I'm so sorry for both the 6-year-old and you, and glad for both of you that it seems like a short, one-day thing! It's so hard for me to pivot. So special you get to play this role with your grands.
Also, I'm feeling the Storyteller love, Kim and Amy! Thank you for being here.
Thank you for sharing your lost week with us, which I believe (hope?) was found (in bits and shiny fragments, perhaps) in the ordering and the sharing of it. I love this essay.
You have such a gorgeous writing style! Look at you writing with interruption or about interruption! Also, love Patty Griffin! ❤️
Amy, thank you for those encouraging words! And indeed—we are sisters in writing with interruptions and loving Patty Griffin. 😊 Gosh, she’s so good.
I love this one extra-especially….because there’s just no reason for writing it except that there is an absurd beauty in the “sideways” moments and days of life. You showed me that beauty. Thank you.
You add your own beauty and insight with these words. Thank you, Susi!
Your words bring back memories of caring for my boys when they were little. My older son, who is now 27, had surgery some months ago, and when they wheeled him back into the ward all I wanted to do was take him in my arms, but I couldn't. He has grown up, and our bond is expressed now mostly in deep conversations, which is also wonderful. You will never regret being there for your little bundle of fire.
Carri, I can imagine feeling just the way you did about your grown son, and feeling that way about my girls to the end of my days--wanting to hold them. At 9 and 13, they rarely let me do it now.
I always cringe when I get that early morning text message that one of my two grandkids are sick or off from school. This week it was the oldest (6) sick, and the youngest (4) off. I got nothing done today but, hey. There's always tomorrow. So glad it was a short one for the six year old. He ate a full dinner this evening.
Oh, gosh. I'm so sorry for both the 6-year-old and you, and glad for both of you that it seems like a short, one-day thing! It's so hard for me to pivot. So special you get to play this role with your grands.
Also, I'm feeling the Storyteller love, Kim and Amy! Thank you for being here.
I love being part of the StoryTellers 🥰
Me, toooo :)
Poetry = exposing the extraordinary within the ordinary. Gorgeous writing. More gorgeous, feeling. Thank you.
Thank you, Stephanie!
Your illustration captions are divine.
I was hoping someone would enjoy them! I have a thing for footnotes and captions. :)
Thank you for sharing your lost week with us, which I believe (hope?) was found (in bits and shiny fragments, perhaps) in the ordering and the sharing of it. I love this essay.
Thank you, Callie! You are so right; writing is a way to find what's been lost, isn't it?