Landslide

Laying next to my little K last night, snuggling as he struggled into sleep as he always does, this song came on the radio that plays softly by his bed every night to ease his transition from consciousness into his dreams.  And for some reason, this night, the words of the song wrapped around me like a melancholy blanket, heavy and bittersweet.

These past months have been a challenge, watching a person I love desperately struggle with the spectre of relapse; holding k in my arms each night wondering if something about life might ever come easy for him; struggling to balance the choice I made to finally pursue the education I always wanted and being present enough to face the turbulent challenges of raising 3 kids, 2 of whom teeter on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood, the other who simply teeters, wondering where he might land.  And these things make me wonder where I might find that strength to make it through these seasons of my life - whether I can juggle all of the balls without dropping one; whether I can be the person I need to be for all of the people in my life and still be the person I need to be for me. (I would say these are the things that keep me up at night, but thank all the Gods there is medication for that.)   Thankfully, change doesn't scare me, but failing does.  Sometimes I feel like I'm digging out from a landslide, just trying to catch my breath before it shifts again, but somehow I always seem to get my feet beneath me and I'm that person I have no choice but to be, even when the prospect of it seems too overwhelming and I'd rather run away and hide for awhile.  But there is no hiding, I've learned; there is only the path forward and all those little moments of beauty to capture and sustain me when those days come and I can't seem to find the beauty anywhere.  Thankfully, even on those days, there is the knowledge that even if I can't see it, I know it is there to find tomorrow.

This Epic Life

I've always had a thing with death.  I suppose most people DO have some sort of "thing" about death, but my thing has a perspective that only those who have been seriously ill seem to really appreciate when I talk of it.  For most of my life, death has been a terrifying prospect always perched on the horizon like a vulture awaiting its dinner.  It wasn't until I was well into my adulthood that I could finally start making connections to my fear of this spectre and the time I spent in the hospital as an extremely ill child.  That year or so, shuffling between hospital stays and "real" life, seeing children come into the hospital and never leave and not knowing whether I was going to be one of the fortunate ones, defined me in ways I am only now coming to understand.  Having spent 35+ years fearing the very tenuousness of life, I am now able to embrace that same fragility and count my blessings each day that I am permitted to be with those I love, realizing that none of us never know whether we will have just one more day to right the wrongs in our lives, or with those we love.

And so it is that I find myself walking rows of headstones in the local graveyards, appreciating the untold stories that lie behind each marker, and chronicling the lives of people I will never know with my camera in something I've dubbed This Epic Life Graveyard Series after a simple epithet I came across on one of my walks.  It is, I suppose, my own way of coming to peace with something I've been terrified of since I can remember.  And oddly enough, it does bring peace.

Ok, I concede...

I *am* obsessed.  I just can't help it.  This morning, after a huge downpour, what did I do but grab my camera and run outside to see what neat things might be in dire need of photographing (which, it just so happened, the grill did).  After a trek on campus and a few photos of the local flora in bloom, we are now bracing for some intense storms to come sweeping through (even let out school early) and, like a fool, I can't wait to see what photo opportunities arise from it.  I think I need help.

Daffodil Blossom Photo Series #6

Day 6, and we have full bloomage!  It has been incredibly fun chronicling the unfolding of these flowers... I'm not sure what I'm going to be able to obsess... ahem, be passionate about next.  I did get to spend a half hour yesterday photographing the local fowl at the lake, which proved a fun diversion, but for some reason, it just doesn't beat the excitement of watching a plant bloom day after day.

Daffodil Blossom Photo Series #5

It is fascinating what 12 hours will do in the life of a plant.  

Daffodil Blossom Photo Series #4

Daffodil Blossom Photo Series #3

Just a few more days, I think.