My heart marks time

It's not really something I can stop. I notice numbers, dates, the passage of time. Sometimes dates sneak right up on me.... But sometimes I see them coming days, weeks, months away.

I miss my dad. I survived the last year. I am still here, fighting and kicking and loving and living. But, I miss my dad. And a  public announcement of that is somehow not the right way to go. So I'm here, hiding on my blog.

I'd like to shout my accomplishment to the world. I did it!! All by myself (well, with help from devoted friends and loving family) I'm finally back in school. I'm getting my health in order. My house is a disaster. But my children are reasonably happy, they know they are loved.

Borrowed time

So much has happened that has been so hard the last few years. If i stop to think about it all i start looking for my rock... And i have yet to build my plotted hidey hole in the attic...
Things are quiet right now. We are in a holding pattern, waiting for the submariner to recover. If his knee doesn't get better... Well I've quit thinking about that too because it is too scary. He does not want to talk about the future, and if i think about it, I'll want to talk about it with my confidant, and he's not available. So, we smile, and wait, and pretend everything is ok.

But, the not knowing, the not talking about things that are too scary, leaves me feeling like I'm living on borrowed time. Like every moment i spend in my home is a lie, because we might lose it.
Every minute i spend with my children is stolen, because i should be doing something else, dishes, laundry, picking up, mopping...
I treasure in my heart the moments the children are happy and laughing and try to permanently imprint them in my brain.