Scott asked me to prioritize blogging each day -- now, while it's still fresh and before I forget too many details -- about our unforgettable "Walnut Shade Summer 2021." After he read what I wrote yesterday, he said I should probably warn people that tissues may be involved. Hmm? That initially seemed unnecessary to me, but as I considered the concept and realized that the five or so likeliest readers of this blog are all family members, most of whom have had some interaction with our kids and grandkids this summer, I concurred.

Writing helps me process my uncomfortable feelings; emotions like pain, anger, fear, or sadness. Of course, talking is also a useful processing tool, but it inconveniently requires another person; someone I feel emotionally safe with who cares, is available, and is willing to invest time and if possible eye contact to listen while I talk, whine, cry, etc. Talking involves two people. Writing is a solo sport.

Since this is my blog, I am free to use it however I want, and since reminiscing about our summer and its associated ambivalent emotions is helpful to me, I plan to keep doing while honoring my loyal readers by including trigger warnings. I am processing and you have been warned.

What with two large checked bags (and "boo hiss" to American Airlines for giving no grace on international bags that weighed 49 and 50 pounds at home, but which must've gone on a donut binge in the car and ended up at 51 and 52 pounds at the airport), a large checked box, and carry-ons including two backpacks, a lunch bag, a child carrier, a stroller, and THE MOST adorable 9 month-old sweetheart on the planet, what with all that, we had to take two cars to the airport, which meant Scott and I drove home separately. Ten miles post-airport, while I was still crying, my dear friend, Debbie, called me, sobbing, and said, "My sister died this morning." I was stunned. Barbie was hospitalized with COVID, we'd been praying fervently for her for ten days, and she was beginning to make progress...?!? Absolutely unbelievable and so. horribly. sad. She was younger than me.

That sorrow, on top of my own "missing-our-kids-and-grandkids-terribly" grief and my concern for my elderly mom who's recovering from a critical (not COVID) health event a couple weeks ago, has been more than I can handle gracefully, and I think the combination of all of it has left me emotionally raw and susceptible to tears for almost any reason, whether or not any hats drop.

Yesterday we -- but mainly Scott -- worked like CRAZY to get some of the more significant parts of of life back to whatever normal might have been. I have struggled mightily with visual clutter, and seeing specific things that two special little people should be using but are not has been very painful for me. Scott stripped all the beds and washed lots of sheets and towels. He moved the car seats out of both vehicles. We found a couple goldfish under Ezekiel's (sniff, sniff). We took a load of diapers that just wouldn't fit anywhere and some other leftover baby consumables to a family who just had their second son. We took the high chair back to our great friend, Tara, and then took the Durango for a much-needed vacuuming and wash. We also went to TJ Maxx and bought me a new purse and wallet! The zipper on my old one had broken about six weeks ago, but I didn't want to take precious time away from family to go shop for a replacement. I want to learn to use a smaller wallet, and the purse is a fun dark purple. It is NOT an old lady purse. = ) Scott collapsed the Pack N' Play and put it back in its bag. He took off the clip-on chair and I scoured it toothpick clean. All the library books were due today, so last night I loaded them in the book crate to take back after my workout this morning. Ah, the book crate.

Ezekiel (the minute we finished any book in the green chair, him on my lap, with my brown "pih-yoh" behind me and his blue "pih-yoh" behind him): Read sum nuh book?

Me: Yes! Please place this one in the book crate.

Book in hand, he'd stride confidently across the room to the hearth, hold the completed book above the crate, look back at me with his classic "eye" expression, and ask, "den-yee?" (gently?) to see if it was or wasn't OK to throw the book in the crate. It never was. And then he'd run back to me with the next book. Oh, the joy!

Scott watered the tomatoes this morning. He's been SO helpful with SO many things in the past 24 hours! I tied up tomato vines and picked about 15 small ones. That made me happy. Back inside, I looked at the tomatoes on the towel on the buffet. Every summer I line up our tomatoes on the dining room windowsills, but when we started picking them on July 16th, I quickly realized that two rows of orange tomatoes right there at toddler height was not going to end well. So I moved them to the buffet, and they've been a fixture there for seven weeks. Today I moved them back to the windowsills... and cried.

I was putting away laundry and on top of Scott's dresser saw the old red, totally falling apart sleeveless T-shirt that Jessica wore as a cover up while swimming... at Big Rock... and Zone 9... with the kids... So many happy memories, but I told Scott I couldn't look at that shirt, and I buried it under some other stuff in his drawer.

I also made Scott's salad for the first time in a long time today, and he was so very surprised and happy. I again saw his extra egg whites on the egg slicer, and I ate them quickly and tried not to cry. But when we sat down together and were about to pray, I knew I couldn't get through it, so I said, "You pray." And he very softly began singing, "Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus, for the food, for the food..." and I lost it completely.

There will be happy posts. You were warned.

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