Monday, April 18, 2011


Rain fell Saturday, so hard. I loved every minute of it. It was so cozy in the house. It made me happy and anxious all at the same time. Happy to be safe and warm with the people I love the most in this world, in our cozy little nest. Sad that this seems fleeting. That the future is uncertain. I don't like uncertainty. But every one's future is mostly uncertain, so I guess it would be silly for me to think that my own would be any different. For a moment on Saturday evening, it was like we were in a bubble. It was safe.

I finally got a phone call from my friend Nichol. Her baby is doing a bit better. She is stable, and in a children's hospital, here in the U.S. She sounded so matter of fact, like she was describing what she was wearing, when she told me about how close to dying her baby has been. She told me about the uncertain future her baby has. Some doctors have told her that the baby will be both physically and mentally disabled. Some have said she will be a bit behind. Still others have said, only time will tell. So now they wait. She said that there isn't a normal moment with her baby. She is constantly scrutinizing every look, and sound, and movement. Instead of gazing into her babies eyes, she watches how her daughter tracks things. She looks desperately for any sign that tells her, everything is going to be OK.

When David was unemployed, our future never seemed more uncertain than it ever had been. I was pregnant. We had no income. No health insurance. Every day was stressful, and laying in bed each night, wondering, was terrifying. I used to ask David, every night the same question. "Are we gonna be OK?", and every night he smiled, and said, "Of course we will". Some nights, I believed him. Some nights, I heard the fear in his voice.

I don't ask David that question anymore. I stopped a while ago. Even, when things got scary. Even with the uncertainty of what will be. What lies ahead for my family. These people that I am in awe of, everyday. (most everyday, anyway.) One day turns into another, and months pass. What I was worried about turns into another worry, and before I can realize it, what I was scared of has passed. It just keeps transforming into something else. And here we are. Still in one piece. Still healthy, and breathing. We seem OK. 

I don't know where we will be in a year. But I was scared a year ago where we would be, and here we are. Some days, I can really paint a frightening picture in my head of where we will wind up. But after the rain on Saturday, and the black, sky that we watched cover our neighborhood last night, the sun is out this morning, and my coffee tastes especially good. Birds are everywhere, and my daffodils finally opened.

 All the bulbs that I planted long ago, are still hanging in there.

1 comment:

  1. I heard again that sheriff sales in monroe county are 2 years behind. it gives you time to re-group and fight.