Listening...I've had Nothing Compares to You by Sinéad O'Connor in my head for the past few days. I love it, but I need to find something to override it.
Today...the Boy is working on his project car and then we have the UFC fights this evening. I did my grocery pick-up yesterday evening, so today it's some laundry and household chores.
Thinking...It's always tragic when someone dies unexpectedly. Whether that person is someone you know personally or from afar, it is often a time for reflection. For those of us who were teenagers in the 80s, Sinéad O'Connor's music is something we knew. At the time, I didn't understand much about her or her anger at the Catholic church. But, I knew her music resonated. I understand much more now about her anger at religion and the abuses that are covered up and hidden.
Children are important. Protecting children is important. And no religious organization is more important than its people, especially its children. And if protecting the organization and its leaders is more important than the innocence and lives of its children, then you belong to a cult.
In my kitchen...toast and cold brew. Grilling tonight.
Wearing...cute black pajamas.
Hoping...for some more reading time.
Reading...I just started The Keeper of Lost Things by Ruth Hogan.
Tonight...UFC Fights. I have no idea who is fighting, but it's something The Doctor and the boys like to do together. So, we will have a fun family evening.
Quoting...
Feeling...it's interesting how memories affect us. Thoughts, flashbacks, things forgotten. That time and distance don't always matter, because memories and the emotions that come unbidden are often unexpected.
July 20 was the day The Boy had his open-heart surgery. He was 6 days old. I don't often think of his birth or surgery day, but because it was his birthday month, those memories were at the forefront.
I get flashbacks to his birth when I'm in the shower. That sounds strange, right? After they took him out of my room, I was determined to go with him. I had no idea at that point what the extent of his condition was. I didn't know if he would live or die, but one way or the other, I was going to that NICU. I got myself into the shower and I remember standing under the water, sobbing. Crying because my son had a heart condition; because I was exhausted and only about 6 hours post-partum; because I didn't know what the future held. A doctor came in to talk to me and helped me shower and dress and I will forever be grateful for her kindness and compassion.
There are times I will be driving and have a flashback to driving home from the hospital. The day we thought we would bring him home and couldn't. So I left his car seat under his crib, because I refused to to take it out of the hospital without a baby in it. And I cried on the way home that evening. I have a distinct memory of driving on the Bay Bridge away from San Francisco and realizing that my day was shattered and everyone else was going about their own merry lives.
I'd like to tell you that those memories are mild and the emotions attached have faded in their intensity. Some are, but some are still visceral in how they feel, even 25 years later.
The Boy is 25. He's a good man. He's healthy and happy. And for all of that I am so grateful. I have a life time of memories with him; some happy, some sad. But I am so grateful for all of them.
Planning...we want to see Oppenheimer, because it looks amazing. And Barbie, because, Barbie. But, it's just finding the time to go.
Gratitude...for iced coffee, air conditioning and grocery pick-up.
From my world...
Signs work. Mostly. There's often a rando who thinks they're the exception or tries to say they didn't see it, but for the most part? Totally works.
What about you? What are you reflecting on this week? How has your week gone?
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