The first day of December

Today was a good day. Holy cow rain! I fell asleep last night listening to the skies open up and wishing for a zinc roof. Driving rain on a zinc roof makes a beautiful white noise that I would love to make my bedtime music for all time.

The boys slept till 8 am. Swim lessons. Park. Plenty of hang out at home time while the other adult in the house played with friends (MLS championship match). Upon his return, I headed out to run on a race track surrounded by lights and sparkle and colorful drums and nutcrackers and Christmas wreaths and friendly holiday animals.

It rained the entire time. It was fantastic.

Less than one hour and six miles later, I tucked my wet, chilled self into the car to drive wearily and happily home where three men, ages young and less young, greeted and rushed me into the bedtime routine. Good thing the peace a run leaves behind tends to linger, because the homecoming was stressful. The boys were mostly great all day, but evidently fought the entire time I was gone. They continued to bicker and pester one another until both my husband and I had had it. It is so unbelievably annoying and unnerving to have to be a referee all day long. I wonder how other parents manage to talk to each other, because we can not have a conversation without being interrupted by one or both children… say… every three seconds. Seriously.

I’m so glad they’re asleep right now.

On this day a year ago, I wrote this love letter to my middle sister.

A few days later, I wrote this letter to my youngest sister.

Tonight, I am still writing to my sisters. A year and a half of blogging plus a lifetime of journaling have made me tell people that if you read my blog, please don’t hold anything you read against me.

I now understand why some writers elect to use pseudonyms.

Today is my middle sister’s birthday. She would have been 36 years old.

If you don’t know what happened, then you might want to read this post.

She is, instead, forever 28.

I sit, and I light the Guadelupana, and I think, and I remember. I breathe in and out. Again and again and again.

I miss her.

This song speaks the words of my heart, even though I didn’t write them.

Waiting on an Angel.

Liz, I remember you today on your birthday, and hold you close during the holiday season, and attempt to treat these days as critical and unique because we won’t ever get them back, and appreciate that we are overflowing in holly and bells and dreidels and reindeer and cookies and trying to make those curly strips of ribbon with a scissors and wishing for snow days and making a list and checking it twice and threatening small children that Santa’s really watching now. Miss you.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. ~ Kahlil Gibran



8 thoughts on “The first day of December

  1. Sue Housholder says:

    Lovely, Sara. I thought of you and the family all day with great sadness for having lost such a beautiful person. But also with joy for having known her. I love your writing and hope you never stop.

  2. beckybreitmaier says:

    I adore this picture of Liz. I don’t know how to describe my feelings except by saying my heart aches. I look at that picture and well, you know how I feel. You express it so well and I love you for it. xoxo

  3. Jeannie Costello says:

    I will forever miss Liz. Thank you, Sara. My love to you all.

  4. paralaxvu says:

    Every time I look at a picture of Liz, I see your mom and my high school days. Love and pain and joy are all wrapped up together.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s