When grief comes, and comes, and comes, there is always thrift to help build me up again. I was just starting to feel better this evening when I opened my email and received some terrible news. I don't know how much sadness I have left in me. At some point, I will address the ramifications of this news, the grief it triggers in me, and the reminder of other great losses, but today, I'm empty.
Yesterday, I went to a bag sale, but didn't buy a bag. I've noticed that at bag sales, I end up getting things that I don't need and then re-donating them, so the system just doesn't work for me. I spent less than the bag would have cost and I got everything I really wanted, so that was a lesson. I found a book by a quadriplegic named John Callahan, who wrote an essay, about a monkey, which I loved (the essay, not the monkey) and sent to a quad I know, so when I saw his book, even though it was in bad shape, I bought it.
My belongings are not all organized in my new place. Many things are still outside of my front door, not because I'm lazy, but because I need a walkway through my apartment. I have more books than a person should have, but I need each of them (shall we all recall the awkward sex book discussion of a week ago?).
Today, I was able to find some organizational items and some bowls to call my own at the local hospice thrift store. My "kitchen" is coming together and my toaster oven is quite the little cooker. I think I may be okay in my little garage apartment after all. Not having a kitchen sink is weird, but not terrible.
I have so many things going on that I may very well explode, but for some reason, in this moment, I am calm. Maybe that's grace.
No comments:
Post a Comment