Mornings. Or Rather Mournings.

rain-on-window-glass Wednesday morning. Rain falling. Temperature hovering right above freezing. 7:00 am rehearsals looming. Labrador with an unexplained lame paw. Neighbor’s labrador, temporarily ours, needs food, water, trip to the bathroom. Dishwasher cycle (again) interrupted last night so no clean dishes. Forgot to put the breakfast pastry into the oven. Forgot my keys when I switched to my raincoat from my wool coat. Son needs shirt ironed for pictures today. Supposed gravel (actually dirt) road almost too muddy to traverse in a small sporty blue Cobalt. Late. Again.

But… 7:30 am I’m at school. I’ve had my coffee and some of the (burned) pastry. Borrowed a key from the secretary. Made it through the mud. Successfully got son to rehearsal (late, but…whatever). Dogs both fed and tucked in. Putting a stamp on Mom’s valentine to get it into the morning mail. First lesson student has laryngitis so a little unexpected break to blog.

In the last 3 weeks we’ve lost a mother and an aunt. Two funerals–one died on the day of the other’s funeral. Somehow that makes all the little things both harder and easier. I don’t have a lot of resources right now to draw on when things go south. But, somehow, it all seems a little less important. My father-in-law’s grieving face fills my thoughts, not the wrinkles in the shirt. My mother, valiantly smiling as she watches her siblings all go and leave her here alone–that’s a bigger deal than my (burned) pastry. It’s been such a strange time, really. So fun to see all the far-flung family again, to eat together and smile together just as we did when we were young. We miss them all dreadfully. To look at pictures of younger, stronger, healthier people rather than the actual faces of the gray, weak, helpless actual people, and to feel confident that they’re restored now. Really rather wonderful, except when you realize Valentine’s Day is coming and we won’t be delivering our usual flowers. Mother’s Day will come and we won’t write a silly song, as we’ve done (and complained about) for 28 years. I don’t know. It’s just all rather strange.

So I think, “good morning.” Or, rather, “good mourning.” Everything is all tangled up together. I just hope my dog’s paw is all right.