We had a great afternoon.
It was a welcomed change from the strangest, longest week of life.
Ty had to finish up some loose ends this morning for work, but by the time he was finished, we gathered together in the kitchen to enjoy lunch, and laugh…all 6 of us.
After our bellies were full, we journeyed outside to cut wood. Ty gave me an extensive how-to lesson, and I ended up splitting the last of the pile of elm myself! Ethan said that he had never been so afraid of a female in sweatpants and a Paw Patrol tuque as he was in this moment, while I was holding an axe.
What therapy! Hacking away at a piece of dead wood, I suddenly realized how many feelings I’ve stored away.
It just felt good to be alive,
to be outside in the fresh air,
enjoying the sun and the company of our family.
The older kids were each up in a tree, and Ethan was tackling Ira on the ground, actually, I think it was the other way around.
There isn’t a single photo of this day because I was just, in it…and likely because my camera needs to be charged.
The strangest thing I’m experiencing during this isolation are the strong, opposing feelings which are becoming a part of everyday life. I’m sure I cant be alone in this.
Oddly enough, I find that many moments feel normal. We needed more fire wood, so we worked together to make that happen.
Yet, many moments are felt so deeply because of this unique experience and because of uncertainty. We need each other. We’re all we’ve got. There is nothing to hurry off to. Even our 19 year old is acutely aware that we’re in this together, otherwise, there’s no way he would have been hanging outside with us on a Saturday, chopping wood and wrestling.
But also, this grief.
It’s chromatic, bottomless, revolving around and around like my kids in the door at the Ritz Carleton (a story for another day).
But it’s shared.
And that feels different than the kind of grief I’ve known. It’s different than the kind that draws feelings of resentment because the world is still carrying on while your heart is broken. This time our hearts are broken collectively.
We’re all in it together this time, which is both reassuring and alarming .
But most strangely what I’m noting are the feelings of acceptance, slowly creeping in. Even though I resist.
Acceptance that this is a new normal.
Acceptance that ‘back to normal’ is no longer a thing.
Acceptance of how little we have control over.
Acceptance of the false sense of security we’ve held onto for all of these years.
My friend sent me a small text last night, with a big meaning….she reminded me how people likely still felt normal even during wartime, and then she said ” Humans are good at adapting to each new normal right?”
That single line broke through my barrier, moving me into the realm of acceptance. It feels less stressful here.
Asking myself, what do I have control over?