the Vulnerable Little March of the Ladybug

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IMG_7304There are about six near-complete posts in my “Drafts” folder right now.  While I am somewhat happy with them, none of them seem particularly relevant to my life or blog at the moment.

I keep thinking about the ladybugs we’ve been finding in our house.  Outside the world is still a frozen mess.  Inside, we have these pretty, little beetles of summer roaming up and down our walls.

We’ve found about a half dozen.  Emily is delighted with them.  “Yookit!  Yookit!” she squeals, jumping up and down.

They make me kind of sad.

They are slow.  When we pick them up, they feel really crunchy.

We don’t have any plants in our house, because our dick-weasel of a cat eats them, so there is no place nice to relocate them.  No happy retirement village for ladybugs to munch vegetation and feel their feet in soil once again.

It crossed my mind to buy a plant for the sole purpose of giving these little critters someplace green and warm to spend their last moments.  But then, the thought of plant pots being knocked over, soil on the floor, chewed up leaves, and cat vomit just seems too much right now.

So we watch them slowly, steadily drift across our walls, one tiny step at a time.

I’m sitting with this vulnerability, this sense of fragility.

The more I accept it, breathe it in, the less terrifying it seems.

As long as no one makes any sudden noises or movements, and doesn’t ask too much of me, I’m cool.

My head is slowly coming back together, after the abrupt fragmentation it experienced last week in the face of trauma.  It is actually kind of cool.  Because I am in the biz, it is like I can watch it all in slow motion, understanding and processing every little twinge and shudder.  It is helping me to stay mindful, to feel a sense of control even as I sit with the fact that 99% of my existence hurtles out of control at the speed of light.

Sometimes I catch myself talking about it on auto-pilot.  Yeah, I almost could have died and stuff.  

And other times I’m really touching it, losing my breath and needing to go be someplace quiet for a few.

Oddly, being aware of it all is somehow less painful than not thinking of it, or trying to ignore it.  When I’m on auto-pilot stupid shit happens.  I slip and fall on ice walking around the rental car to put gas in it.  I slice open the tip of my finger cutting a bagel for Jack.  I get hyper-focused on the pain in my lower back and lose my temper when I drop something and have to bend over to pick it up.

It’s bright and sunny out today.  Stuff is melting.  This thought is both scary and hopeful.

There is a hot cup of tea and an ample slice of coffee cake with cinnamon crumb topping that the kids and I made yesterday.

I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.

But I will.

Because life goes on.

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3 responses »

  1. Pingback: Mommy Guilt Confessional– I Sent My Sick Kid to School | momaste

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