Because of what happened seven years ago, Will is not home today.
As I sat and watched the news for a moment this morning, that thought entered my mind. It has stuck with me, all day. As I remembered the events that took place in my life seven years ago (written about here in 2005), as I listen to my children sob, and they don't understand why they are so upset. I know it is partially because Daddy isn't home. They are young enough that they can't tell me what they feel, because those feelings are so vague and new to them. It is partially because Mommy is having a hard time today, feeling overwhelmed and alone.
And I remember that day seven years ago, when I didn't have it in me to care right away. Because I was so worried about my 6 month old baby in surgery. I remember how easy it was to put those feelings of sadness away- in a little box- and ignore them. And I wish that my box was the same as it was back then. It isn't, its cracked, its worn thin in places, but it holds so much more anguish and fear than I ever thought was possible. And the tears the box holds? Sometimes they seep out over the strangest memories and thoughts and feelings. Because I am dealing with a lot, and maybe I am not as alright as I pretend to be.