This week I feel completely useless. Our nights are short as Olivia has been waking up with nightmares and fears at 4 a.m. every morning for two weeks now. We are exhausted and irritable and I feel like it's safer to 'just be' than find the energy to do life with people other than us three (not healthy, I know). Christmas is still boxed up in bins in our front entrance. The tree is bare, but still up and Olivia makes sure it is still lit every day. Where's the energy to dismantle it and bring the boxes to the basement? The ironing is piled high, even though I managed to iron 5 shirts today. Emails are unanswered, phone calls not returned. Laundry waiting to be put in the dryer, folded and put away. Supper to be made. Even Tikka seems melancholy (or it could be the infected hot spot he is fighting)
noun: hope; plural noun: hope
a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
Not feeling 'the hope' I am supposed to cling to this week and the thing is, I should be. We have planned a get-away to Playa del Carmen so that we will be away for Mikail's heavenly birthday. I should be filled with excitement and expectation for it. We have irons in the fire in regards to one of our deepest hopes for this year, but feel like they were dashed from the get-go, and are trying to hang onto any glimmer of hope there is for us in the matter. While Jason is at a conference in February, Olivia and I will fly home for a week. Lots to look forward to, right?
They say that
hope sees the invisible,
feels the intangible,
and achieves the impossible.
Can you hold my hope for me today? It seems to have gotten lost in the grief of the anticipation of a dreaded anniversary. I'll hold onto yours for you. Fair trade? Yours seems manageable to me. Maybe mine seems manageable to you.