How long will it be before I can hug you again?
We don’t have fights about the dishes, but today (Friday?!), I felt the hairline cracks in our interior apartment life beginning to show…
We don’t have fights about the dishes, but today (Friday?!), I felt the hairline cracks in our interior apartment life beginning to show. Little tensions, exchanges which are normally easy, became tighter. The girls seemed particularly fried out by the end of today as well. What will happen to all of our muscles? What will happen to our minds? How are we all going to make it through this with our mental health intact? I’m not sure about any of it. I know that come Monday, my bi-weekly visits with my therapist will turn into phone conversations that take place in my bathroom. I’ll probably be crying a lot. It’s sometimes easier to cry on the phone.
I think this is the place where I just keep writing about what makes me cry. I’m not sorry, but I wanted to note that I recognize this very real possibility. There’s a lot to cry about.
For instance: I want to hug my nephew.
Don’t get me wrong, I love hugging the three people who live in my home, but when I saw my two-year-old nephew today, all I wanted to do was pick him up and hug him so tightly, spin us around in a circle and kiss his neck. All I wanted was this. So simple. So distant. Because we have to be safe. I know.
How can our bodies survive this time? Who can I blame for this? Anyone? Anything?
I want to hug Rhiannon. I want to hug Erica. I want to hug Lindsey and Lindsey. I want to hug Renata and Lauren. I want to hug Laura. I want to hug Maggie. I want to hug Stephanie. I want to hug Jacquelyn and Amy and Samantha. I want to hug Nora. I want. To hug. You.
I send a hug to you all tonight. You are being held by me; you are all in my arms.
Praise the Rain
BY JOY HARJO
Praise the rain; the seagull dive
The curl of plant, the raven talk —
Praise the hurt, the house slack
The stand of trees, the dignity —
Praise the dark, the moon cradle
The sky fall, the bear sleep —
Praise the mist, the warrior name
The earth eclipse, the fired leap —
Praise the backwards, upward sky
The baby cry, the spirit food —
Praise canoe, the fish rush
The hole for frog, the upside-down —
Praise the day, the cloud cup
The mind flat, forget it all —
Praise crazy. Praise sad.
Praise the path on which we’re led.
Praise the roads on earth and water.
Praise the eater and the eaten.
Praise beginnings; praise the end.
Praise the song and praise the singer.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.