My heart is full and I am finding it so very hard to start here.  So many middles.  So many riches beyond any expectations.  Joy that I have no way of deserving and for which I am thankful beyond expression.  As I have noted previous, joy does not come without some measure of sorrow but perhaps there is a lesson that joy and sorrow are not the opposites as I’ve always thought them to be.  They are neighbors of the soul and neither is diminished by the presence of the other.  This idea may be deeply ingrained in most people but it is discovery for me and I am grateful for it.  I have no choice but to live with and in my grief, my period of transition, but I do have the choice to also embrace the joy that is close at hand.

And so I do.

First and foremost, I miss spending Christmas with Cheshire.  She is growing into a life that is her own and that I am not always a part of.  She is glorious and I have not any part of a wish to stop her growth but my heart aches for that wondrous person.  If the stars keep their present alignment, I will give her a very big hug on Saturday and we will usher in the new year together.

Then there is this incredibly odd and wonderful Christmas.  Julia and I have been taken into family, my dear friend’s family.  Something not deserved or worked for, something so serendipitous that it feels like the universe is flexing its muscles and working overtime to throw buckets of joy over our heads -- not unlike the ride at Universal Studios Jurasic Park that we went on two days ago.  They told us that is we did not sit in the front of the “jeep” we would not get wet and so we took the middle seats and were soaked!  Surprise!  Soaked and . . . we could have groused or we could have laughed.

It is the ability to chose laughter that seems to be the miracle. 

To back up (and I may have written this all before), after the summer, I was looking for some way to celebrate Christmas that was not tied to expectations and mired in the past.  I thought of being in the warm but had very little concrete idea.  Cheshire was in Indy visiting Marcia and told Marcia my thoughts and Marcia had a solution.  Her brother had rented two condos in Orlando for his very large extended family and there was a bedroom that was still empty.  Marcia and Matt were going down and why didn’t we join them.  My first thoughts were pretty negative about spending Christmas with strangers but I put that away.  It would be wonderful having time with Marcia and Matt and over the years of our friendship, I have met and spent some significant times with her family.  And so, casting caution to its own purgatory, I signed us up.  It was only after we had been here a day, that Marcia and Matt had to back out of the trip because of health reasons, leaving Julia and I spending Christmas with her family without her.  I realize that this is such a similar circumstance to the west coast wedding that we went to in September -- more people to whom I am not related and cannot claim any loyalty due to friendship  who open their arms and hearts to us.  

This is grace.  

And so, we spend our days at the “parks.”  A first afternoon at Universal’s Island of Adventure mostly in the Wizarding World, then Saturday at Universal Studios and Sunday at Legoland.  In the morning, 12 of us gather for breakfasts and at night we regroup for supper and/or a beer and desert.  We make plans, we shop for food, Jon bought a Christmas tree today and we will make decorations on the eve.  We are planning a Christmas dinner at “home” with a day away from the parks which will probably include some swimming and cooking and exchanging silly gifts.  My reservations of place and belonging have slowly melted away.  We are simply who we are -- we are here, we belong.

I am present and grateful.  My heart is full and I rejoice in finding joy that has no payment  up front or to come.  

Lisa and I are working on a family church service to be held next Sunday at the church where she is a minister.  I have never done anything like this before which does not stop me from fully contributing to the planning.  We will talk about the new year and letting go of what we do not need to make room for what we want to open our lives to with the important caveat that what we want may come in ways we almost do not recognize.  Thinking about this topic -- which has been evolving over the past week or so -- is perfect during this time.  It is where I am but where I am right now is a surprise -- like that water ride. Explaining the possibility of joy, defining the experience in serendipity, offering enough story to serve as example without slipping into self-indulgence, offering a path without prescribing a journey, those are all Lisa’s job.  In these tasks, I have no expertise and I will trust that she will take what raw material I can bring to this task and shape it into some viable message.  

But the thinking, planning and doing is such food for consolidation and movement.  The process is a gift to my now, providing a frame for this joyful Christmas.  

Christmas cannot be what it once was.  It is not the child’s blind joy or the teen’s alienation or the young adult’s created celebration or the parent’s tradition making or anything else.  It cannot be what it was because it can only be what is now.

And I will say once more, now has be in joy.

And Julia is having a pretty good time too. (Pictures of the last two days are in Photo)

written 19 December 2013

Julia has had two very good days -- cooperative, compliant, adventurous and easy to transition.  I have no idea why.  I know.  I know.  I cannot really graph her moods and behaviors and find some correlation with what she eats, when she sleeps, how our relationship is going, but I cannot help the urge to help her get those ducks, whatever those ducks are, in a row.

As we dressed this morning to get ready to travel, I saw that Julia had scratched one of her sores.  “It itched.”  That skin is still so delicate and even though it looks pretty well healed, it take only a swipe or two to peel off a few layers.  My hope of being healed for this vacation and bandaidless dissolved.  She had been without bandaid for the last three nights and once again I was hoping that we could move on.  She did have her gloves on and so she had to take off the gloves to scratch.  She could take off the gloves but could not call me.  The endeavor continues.  

I was angry.  I am so invested in her healing.  I cannot separate and let her just do what she must.  

In speech therapy on Monday afternoon, Linda did some language/direction following testing.  I was disappointed to see that there are still so many concepts missing -- “After you touch the big, black shoe, touch the last house.”  Julia touches the house, sometimes even correctly, but omits the other directions.  If the directions are straight forward -- touch the house, the last shoe and the third apple -- she has a decent chance of getting it right.  What Linda noticed, and once she commented on it, I noticed it as well, was that Julia did not impulsively reach out and touch whatever was closest to her.  She thought, she attempted to follow directions and she wanted to get it “correct.”  

We are giving out holiday gifts to teachers and therapists -- bags of home made cookies.  Julia helped put some of them together but I thought she was rather oblivious to the process.  When we went to cello lesson yesterday, Julia noticed that we did not have a gift bag for her cello teacher.  I was surprised that she noticed.  

We are heading for Orlando.  We are far enough south to see green out the window and it looks so good.  Winter is still new and we have not had much snow yet.  Still, I anticipate wearing few clothes and flip flops.

written 19 December 2013

Julia has had two very good days -- cooperative, compliant, adventurous and easy to transition.  I have no idea why.  I know.  I know.  I cannot really graph her moods and behaviors and find some correlation with what she eats, when she sleeps, how our relationship is going, but I cannot help the urge to help her get those ducks, whatever those ducks are, in a row.

As we dressed this morning to get ready to travel, I saw that Julia had scratched one of her sores.  “It itched.”  That skin is still so delicate and even though it looks pretty well healed, it take only a swipe or two to peel off a few layers.  My hope of being healed for this vacation and bandaidless dissolved.  She had been without bandaid for the last three nights and once again I was hoping that we could move on.  She did have her gloves on and so she had to take off the gloves to scratch.  She could take off the gloves but could not call me.  The endeavor continues.  

I was angry.  I am so invested in her healing.  I cannot separate and let her just do what she must.  

In speech therapy on Monday afternoon, Linda did some language/direction following testing.  I was disappointed to see that there are still so many concepts missing -- “After you touch the big, black shoe, touch the last house.”  Julia touches the house, sometimes even correctly, but omits the other directions.  If the directions are straight forward -- touch the house, the last shoe and the third apple -- she has a decent chance of getting it right.  What Linda noticed, and once she commented on it, I noticed it as well, was that Julia did not impulsively reach out and touch whatever was closest to her.  She thought, she attempted to follow directions and she wanted to get it “correct.”  

We are giving out holiday gifts to teachers and therapists -- bags of home made cookies.  Julia helped put some of them together but I thought she was rather oblivious to the process.  When we went to cello lesson yesterday, Julia noticed that we did not have a gift bag for her cello teacher.  I was surprised that she noticed.  

We are heading for Orlando.  We are far enough south to see green out the window and it looks so good.  Winter is still new and we have not had much snow yet.  Still, I anticipate wearing few clothes and flip flops.

Changed my hard drive yesterday, or the guy at the genius bar in the apple store did, and I uploaded my files last night.  This morning I try to get into word processing and I can't.  Yes, there is a moment of freezing.  What if . . .  Well, worst case scenario.  If it is all gone, I will deal with it.  If I have to go back to the apple store, I will deal with that too.  My equanimity surprises.

Is this a learning?

Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

~ David Wagoner ~

No, no, there is no going back.
Less and less you are
that possibility you were.
More and more you have become
those lives and deaths
that have belonged to you.
You have become a sort of grave
containing much that was
and is no more in time, beloved
then, now, and always.
And so you have become a sort of tree
standing over the grave.
Now more than ever you can be
generous toward each day
that comes, young, to disappear
forever, and yet remain
unaging in the mind.
Every day you have less reason
not to give yourself away.

~ Wendell Berry ~

Oh, I've listened to poems like this.  I've listened with one ear fixed on not understanding to dozens, no, hundreds of poems.  Is that the ambiguity of living the questions?  I did not understand the now of now, the not stepping into the same river twice, or how to give myself away.  With all the breathless suddenness of a cold bucket of water, I sing ‘I see, I see.’  

So there is some good, something incredible and joyful about this moment.  A breath-taking wonder at the beauty of a steel blue dawn, flannel sheets and a child’s soft snores beside me.  Breath returns in time to thank the divinities inside and out for the possibility of seeing beauty and feeling joy.  But at the same time, I know deeply that sudden understanding and vision does not replace pain.  Understanding does not provide happily ever after.  It is only . . . only, what?  Only just now, only just the point of beginning to give myself away, only the place to start the work, only the place where I step off and expect an angel catching.  Even all that is too much.  It is only now.

If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

Oh god, this is hard.  On a new deeper level it is letting go.  It is expecting, trusting, assuming, living hope.  It is faith.  Yes, letting go is deep dependence on and trust in the unfolding of what is coming.  The absolute knowing that given the completion of today, tomorrow will come and will be a now to be lived fully.  Fully with pain and with joy.  It will come without my need to do anything but wait and accept it.  It will be, for me, the mystery of gratitude and joy.  It might be the mystery of the journey of grieving and disappointment.  Everything that I’ve been taught in these last two years about Dukkha floods in.

I am by nature an optimist.  I have always had a measure of faith in my jacket pocket but I’ve been abandoned, I’ve been disappointed, I’ve been hurt.  There is a hole in my jacket pocket and my measure of faith escaped.  I have been left with Dukkah.

I found this definition: ‘‘suffering’ is an inadequate translation of the word ‘Dukkha’, but it is the one most commonly found, lacking a better word in English. Dukkha means ‘intolerable’, ‘unsustainable’, ‘difficult to endure’, and can also mean ‘imperfect’, ‘unsatisfying’, or ‘incapable of providing perfect happiness’.” (http://viewonbuddhism.org/4_noble_truths.html)

This morning I need to celebrate and not be slightly embarassed for doing so.  I am finding joy, chasing it, even though I’ve lost the person who completed my life and the perfect child that I imagined.  The intolerable pain exists at the same time as the joy, and at the same time, it is possible to  not make either such a big deal.

Last night before Julia turned over and went to sleep she said, “I think that Lizzy might be a Weasley.”  Thereby uniting her two worlds.  Lizzy, of course, is the purple dinosaur who has been with Julia since our trip to Disney in 2011.  A little purple T-rex also is very much a part of Julia’s story before she became part of our family.  Working with Marilyn on the long story, with many pictures, of Julia’s life in China, it is Lizzy, the dinosaur (not the toy but the “real dinosaur”) who is her champion against all that was wrong, all that hurt her.  She says that the dinosaur was always with her; however, if there was something with her in China, she called it a Fie Dun and it was a sort-of monster.  Once home the Fie Dun quickly became a dinosaur.  She admits to it being made up by her, but she says it was made-up-real.  Marilyn thinks, as do I, that it was the invention that supported her survival in that awful place.  

Now, there is Harry Potter and his magical world.  She loves it -- it is the first and last thoughts of the day.  She can admit that it is make believe but she loves it.  I have lifted my ban on the books (I didn’t want her to read beyond the second one).  She has been sneaking into the dining room to check out the other books on the shelf (Interestingly, her lust for all of Potter, led her to the realization that we have a lot of books on our shelves.  She asked me whether she could read them all.) and she has done the same at school.  She is plowing through the second book right now -- reading it out loud to me  as we ride in the car and at night before bed.  It will take her a long time to get through each book.  I am not worrying about her meeting experiences that are too intense for her.  I was not too much older when I snuck into the adult part of the library in Bloomfield, New Jersey, and read all manner of adult books.  “Catcher in the Rye” comes to mind in particularly.  When David’s first book came out, he made a special redacted version for Cheshire and her friends who were in 8th grade at the time.  I don’t know if she snuck and read the full version.

My meandering point is just that I need to let go here.  I want to protect Julia because she is still so immature, but if reading is one of the things that she is compelled to do, it may also be one of those things that helps her to mature.  She is drawn to adventure -- Cat Warriors and Guardians of Ga’hoole -- books I am really not interested in.  Cheshire at that age was discovering historical fiction (Cheshire, you should set me straight if I am way off base).  I was discovering science fiction but interested in the worlds not the wars.  I cannot chart Julia like I could Cheshire.  I cannot compare her to myself or to Cheshire or even to what I know of David’s reading habits as a boy.  Not being able to chart her, I tend to tighten the reigns.  I want to limit her exploration.  

But I cannot.  I should not.

I will be there for guidance.  Of course.  Of course.  The kid is much more dependent upon me than Cheshire was at this age.  I have a stronger veto power with her.  But I must learn to use it much more gently.  One day, she may be able to be much more independent and I want her to still trust my guidance.  If I am too powerful right now, I may be the best spring board for her rebellion and independence.  

Gosh.  I have always over thought.  I over thought every decision of Cheshire’s growing up but not as much as what I do now.  Now, alone, without a partner to bounce decisions off of, I can be the hovering tornado mother.

Not good for either of us.

Cello: We hit on something this weekend -- I had Julia write the note names above each note for two of the songs in her school music book -- Jingle and Twinkle.  I know that she is supposed to be learning to read music as well as play, but I think doing both together are just a bit too much for her.  And she was the one who wrote the notes in.  Her fingering improved immediately.

She is learning to read, it is just slow.  She does not recognize patterns, even repeating patterns, so she is deciphering notes one at a time which understandably takes her forever.  This is very much the way she was when she was first learning to read.  She is getting better at fingering -- we practice between two notes often -- but I think she needs to see the letter names for a while longer.

Her private cello teacher agrees and was very impressed by Julia’s lesson during which Julia insisted on playing both Jingle and Twinkle for her.  Her teacher came up with a way to practice in which I will do one hand -- fingering or bow -- and Julia will do the other, thereby giving Julia practice with both without needing to always put both together.  She does not agree with the way that she is learning in the strings class but she is going with what Julia brings in.  We have, very much, found the right teacher.  I told her yesterday that Julia doesn’t recognize patterns yet in the music, and I saw that one bit of information change her manner.  

Julia continues to be gifted with brilliant teachers.

And the Grinch, with his Grinch feet ice cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling:
"How could it be so?
It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes or bags!"

I feel the marvel of the Grinch this morning, and although my heart had no need to grow three sizes, my spirit did.  

This was not my traditional Thanksgiving.  I did not travel to Maryland to spend the week with Lisa and family, I did not shop and chop and wake up early to get the stuffing in the bird and the bird in the oven.  I did not bake or worry the schedule.  I did not help with the table or arrange the last fall greens and grasses and scavenge a few flowers.  I was not exhausted by the time we finished serving dinner.  I did not spend the weekend with Cheshire and at least one night staying up way too late to solve all the challenges of life.  I did not do what I thought I had to do to feel like it was Thanksgiving.

And still it came.  It came with making only deviled eggs and some cranberry sauce, with an easy day practicing cello, playing Pottermore and reading social studies.  Julia and I went to our friend, Amy’s house and with her family and a few friends, I helped a very little in the kitchen, talked some, listened a lot, and ate and enjoyed.  

And we had Thanksgiving.  

Yes, this is about David and grieving and being so very scared that I would be in that bubble of grief forever.  And scared and insane that if I could not hold onto something that I was sure of, something totally know, I would dissolve.  Perhaps I would have last year or the year before that, but the odd twists of fate, that kept me from the few rituals that I have leaned heavily on for years even before David’s death, pushed me into the new.

So very long ago, when David and I were first together and first figuring out our holidays which were always a blend of our cultures and ethnic roots, and where we lived and how much we wanted to spend time with our families of origin, we experimented.  In those early days, David was the curmudgeon who was unwilling to embrace my Christian traditions and unwilling to celebrate his Jewish traditions.  I wanted to do all and wanted to radically change.  Children, moving, dying friends and family changed what we set down and we changed again.  And again.

I did not know if I could ever again do as much changing as we did together.  

Yesterday, I lived the changing time joyfully.  I missed my dearest ones.  I missed all that I knew of what could make the holiday.  I missed.  I missed.  I missed, but survived.  I changed.  I enjoyed.  It is all bitter sweet, all complex and layered.  There may never again be the pure, simple joy without pain for me, but then, I may be hearing the giggling of the gods when I pronounce my solomon ‘never.’  

Yesterday, Julia and I went to the supermarket before social skills group.  Julia is usually cooperative during food shopping trips.  She will pick out apples or lemons or the like when I ask her to.  Sometimes she will pine over some small stuffed toy or a junky gadget, but the food doesn’t really inspire her; however, yesterday, Julia asked if we could get some chips for her lunch.  And then she examined the entire chip aisle until she found something that was “spicy” and that I would approve of.  (We wound up with spicy salsa sun chips.)  I marveled at her attention.

Perhaps being hungry had something to do with her interest?  Perhaps she is a kid who should shop hungry?  

Two developments for me today:

1. I asked our PTO to sponsor a mindfulness class for Franklin-Randall families run by someone who has done the same at FUS.  I’ve been turned down today and told that if I wanted to move on this to get an outside vendor permit and rent school space.  I don’t think that the teacher I have in mind will want to go through that process or has the funds to rent the space.  Trying for a work around, but not hopeful.

2. Meeting someone today who is working with kids on mindfulness in the schools with the slim possibility of interning with her.  The way my luck has been running, I don’t expect it to work out.  There always seems to be something in the way.

3. Went to a training yesterday for the Family Navigator program at Waisman.  The training was for a program called Pathways -- a way to interact with families to gather information is a family friendly way.  Wow, to have such a tool and to really develop some skill using it.  Because I cannot be a navigator, I will not get that chance.  Deep envy although undeniable gratitude that such a thing is being tried.

I am so ready for this to be a long weekend.  I am feeling a physical regret about not seeing Cheshire or Lisa and family this Thanksgiving.  I am grateful for Amy’s invitation to dinner.  This change, however it has come about -- translate: this was not of my choosing -- still the change is not a bad thing.  It is what I asked for.  Possibly making me more grateful next year, possibly leading to some change that I cannot even now imagine.  Sometimes I feel my alignment with spirit/universe/god and marvel at the path.  Sometimes it is all just so disjointed and choppy.  

It has been snowing since some time very early in the morning.  Just enough is on the ground to justify using my snow blower, more to make sure it is working and ready for the really big snows to come than to clear what is there now.  But I promised myself a writing this morning before anything else.  And so . . . 

On Saturday, I drove to Northbrook, IL, near Chicago, to see an eye doctor, Deborah Zelinsky.  Consulting with her is perhaps the beginning of my exploring non-evidenced based therapy/treatment for Julia.  Without explaining what I can about the eye care that Dr. Z offers, an online description  that is not on her website says:

The Mind-Eye Connection was created to fill the need for evaluation of interconnections between auditory and visual processing systems.   Most people don't realize that alteration of eyeglasses and/or contact lenses affects auditory localization.  Even people who have 20/20 central eyesight can benefit from peripheral and other sensory integrative processing.  In addition to the eyes themselves, we evaluate systems connected with the eyes. We emphasize peripheral eyesight and moving targets, and have a patient base consisting of routine eye care patients as well as people on the autistic spectrum, those who have suffered brain injuries and children with developmental delays and/or learning problems.

The exam was incredible.  All the regular eye testing was done and then some others.  Dr. Z, herself, is pretty much brilliant.  Using the tests and her observation and interaction with Julia, she told me and her intern about Julia and described her spot on.  Julia has trouble seeing the board in front of the classroom.  I see her squinting at things like her sheet music if it is not very close to her.  Dr. Z says that Julia has 20/20 vision but that her internal focus has kept her from developing the muscle strength to see at a distance.  Like, she doesn’t reallyHer prescription is pink tinted lens that are a slight prism which should get Julia to look out further and to encourage her eyes to work her muscles.  This is a very simplistic explanation but I cannot explain the workings of the eye the way that the doctor can.  

I did a good deal of research before I made the appointment.  LEND and my friends at Waisman have given me a very healthy dread of non-evidence based treatments.  I know I can suffer from wanting to believe that there is something out there that will make a world of difference to Julia -- to fill in her holes.  David was, for better or worse, so much more skeptical.  Possibly he kept me from a few foolish endeavors.  Now,   I must be both the dreamer and the rationalist.  

Perhaps that is why I was incredibly anxious as we drove to Chicago on Saturday.  At one point, there were snow showers -- not awful at all, but the first of the season -- and I was almost in tears.  I took many slow long breaths which helped my physical anxiousness but not what was going on inside my head.  

Julia did splendidly at the appointment.  There were a lot of tests and most of them as boring as all eye tests are.  Julia has never been one for doing tests that are not of interest to her and she did complain some.  She also allowed herself to be coaxed into finishing the tests which I have rarely seen.  The big pay off, that neither of us knew about in advance, is that her halloween Harry Potter glasses can be used for her prescription.  The way this therapy may go is that the lens will be changed every few months.  We will not know for sure until Julia uses the glasses for a few weeks and she is examined again.

When I asked Dr. Z what to expect, she would not tell me.  She says she does not want to prejudice me in any way.  This could sound rather like a scam but I trust this woman.  She read Julia like a book.  I’ve rarely seen someone work with Julia so well and so quickly.  I think she is sincere, brilliant, quirky and possibly is really onto something.  Well, I say “she is on to something”, there is a whole cadre of Neuro-Developmental Optometrists and an association.  It is not just her.  What I researched goes hand in hand with the idea of neuro-plasticity and bottom line, if it can give Julia a small hand up, fill in a few holes, it will be a miracle. 

I drove home, exhausted, not only from the amount of driving but from the emotion toll of the day, but I felt very much at peace.   I still do.

And Julia woke up this morning asking when her  glasses were coming!

After an autumn of failed ideas -- failed in that a very interesting set of ideas just can’t get off the ground due to technical difficulties with organizational rules or plain ol’ lack of interest -- an idea to bring mindfulness classes for families to our school community sparks my interest and I wrote a query to a teacher and to the community.  There was immediate and overwhelming community interest as well as teacher interest.  I am off on the next step -- contacting PTB to see if the idea is feasible and allowable.  Feeling very much this morning like the “failed” portion of the autumn ideas was a necessary step to moving in a new direction.

Don’t know if anything will grow out of yesterday’s seeds.  Planting without expectation.  Watering with courage.

This morning, I had three old fillings removed and refilled and then I came home and rearranged my air travel for the winter break.  The re-fillings are working.  I hope the rearrangement of air travel works as well.

I’ve begun writing about my parents for the family picture/document file.  Right now, there are precious few people to comment on the truth of my perceptions and by the time that someone reads what I’m writing, perhaps there will be no one who has more than dim recollections. I lament that I have so little to write about my grandparents and even less about David’s family.  Of course, I expected him to remember his own parents and grandparents.  But even of my own, and even with my grandmother’s pictures, I have only a little to say.  Another but . . but as I begin writing about my parents, I feel the power of the story.  I could tell the story that I want to tell.  In my version, they might adore me, applaud my choices, or reject me in such a way to make some future relative cringe.  My own perceptions surely color their story mightily, but I could stray far from my own perceptions.  I could say anything that I liked.  I could make an exciting tale.  

I have never quite felt such power of story.  History can be lethal.

And it is late.  I should be asleep.  Instead, I am hanging on, like a reluctant child to the ends of this day.  

Resilience is the ability to bend and weave, to move and duck, to cancel and regroup, to edit, to leave, to begin anew.  If this be so, I am learning to be resilient again.

The weekend brought changes.

My annual trip to Baltimore for Thanksgiving is cancelled due to family matters on the Baltimore end.  I mourned this over the weekend, talking to Cheshire and realizing that it was not possible to change plans to go to NYC.  So, we will be home which I have longed for.  For a day, I was lost with great fear that I would be spending the day alone with Julia.  That is really no way to celebrate.  We did that sort of things back in the day -- David, Cheshire and I and it was fine, but Julia is a lousy dinner companion.  We need more.  I will ask about for who is around, who needs two dinner companions.  I can cook or be cooked for.

There is the possibility of extending Christmas travel time by going to Baltimore for New Years.  Is this what I was asking for months ago?  Complete change?  A shaking up of routine?  Is this part of healing?

Julia helped with the raking yesterday.  The big, big tree which holds onto leaves the longest finally let go last week and we had a lot to rake.  We filled the compost bins which are much smaller than I’ve kept for years and put the rest out to the curb for leaf collection.  I raked while she filled the plastic barrel to carry out to the street.  It took us a long time and thankfully, Julia did not complain.  Her work, although not an adult share, was not negligible.  At first, I felt it was taking me too long to instruct her, but after awhile, she fell into step and we could be proud of all our work together when we were finished.  Physical work is so good for Julia.  And me.  

Today, I thought I would do the front yard which I’ve done before and so is not as filled as the back was.  However, it is snowing!  Snowing, sticking to the roofs, and not stopping.  Raking in the snow has much too much of a desperate sound to me.  I can only hope it does not accumulate and I will be given a few hours later this week to finish up.  Back garden is “put away” but there remains a few chores in the front.  It is November and I have ordered a new down coat that I will use soon, but I was hoping for a few more days.

I’ve been grousing to myself all weekend -- changes, hard work to do almost alone, and really sick of cooking every day.  And trying to rid myself of this cold.  Being sick is never good for my temperament.  Today, most of it is gone.  I am grateful for what I have and what I can do.  There is a bit of joy infusing into my being.  3 years, 4 months and 6 days.  It is the decision to be of this world that begins the healing, but the process is dammed long and I am sure the next road block is just visible on the horizon.  Still, today, there is a little joy.

Written 8 November 2013

I’ve been feeling sick -- head ache, cough, stuffy nose -- and it is worse at night.  I tend to fight the feelings for a few days and then give in and take care of myself.  Today, I give in.  Water and tea! Sleep and naps. I have wanted to fast but I should now wait a few days and see if I feel better.  Coffee this morning, a rare treat these days, helps.

So, sick but beginnings of competence.  Talked to my banker about money and a media guy about photoshop.  No, they are not in the same league but things in which I am inching my way towards competence.

I am fading from Waisman and from what I see right now, I will probably not finish the work I need to get my certificate.  I’ve always said that the certificate meant nothing to me but I have always expected that the most appropriate project would appear for me to finish.  It is not and the project I am in is moving further and further away from any possibility of my participation.  Had not considered fading away, as opposed to graduating or quitting, but I think fading might be what I am doing. I may be becoming transparent.  There is a slim possibility of meeting with someone who may be working with kids on contemplative practice and possibly working with her but -- and oh, how I hate those but’s.  So, no but.  This is a series of “mays” and “mights” and “possibilities” that appears more and more remote as time passes and email goes unanswered.

Where does this put me?  Untethered, for sure.  Possibly that is where I belong right now.  No idea.  Fumbling around in the twilight and tripping over flat objects. 

5:04 and it is dark, but on the up side there is a bit of light when Julia gets on the bus in the morning.  I put on the flannel sheets today and as soon as a store the wheelbarrow, I will be putting the car in the garage every night.  Ummm . . . winter.

I don’t think I wrote about the re-emergence of Julia’s scratching on her arm.  The summer’s intense healing pretty much destroyed within a few days.  This time, however, I am on it immediately -- creams, ointments, bandaids and gloves.  Oh, and lectures.  And some pleading and rational discussion too.  I have no idea whether I can stem this tide but I am not ready to give up.  Whether it is change of season, release of trauma with Ellen or something else, it doesn’t matter.  I believe her when she says it itches -- after all, she doesn’t scratch her other limbs or other parts of her body mindlessly.  What is so concerning is the compulsion and her inability to stop.  I don’t think that pain is an issue -- she scratches way past that.

I wonder about the line between stimming and compulsion.  Do they overlap at times?  Can some behavior start as one and morph into the other?  

Julia is typing -- hunt and peck -- her weekly paragraph.  I didn’t think she would get here this year but it takes her only a little bit longer to type than it does to write, and she doesn’t erase typing.  Talk about compulsive!!  Letter perfection is a killer.

We worked on is/was, are/were in this paragraph.  She mixes tenses all the time and she seems to have gotten down first letter capital and period after the last work.  Time to move on to tense agreement although I did not tackle all of it for this assignment.  Talking about past, present and future was impossible two years ago -- maybe even a year ago.  This small step for most kids is such a big milestone for her.  

This week’s paragraph: 

Bottle Hunt

One afternoon Judy and Rocky were going out bottle hunting to save the world. The third grade kids were recycling the bottles to buy a tree to plant a tree in the children’s rain forest in Costa Rica. Rocky found old bottles in his garage. Judy found some milk jugs in her house. Judy’s classmates piled all the plastic bottles on top of each other. Mr.Todd said that the next day they will find out how many bottles they had collected. I wonder what Judy was thinking about planting a tree.

These are supposed to be reflective paragraphs and this was the first time that we were able to work in the “I wonder” beginning to the last sentence.  She needs lots of support to produce this and lots of time.  We decide on what she will write about on Sunday and she begins to fill out a story format sheet.  She usually writes the topic sentence that day as well.  On Monday and Tuesday, she adds two or three sentences each day, and on Wednesday, she types and edits.  I am not always as patience as I should be, or that she needs, but slowly we are tackling this.

9:55 and I’ve raked the gardens and planted the last 40 or so bulbs.  Worth noting because I am rarely that ambitious and productive this early.  Not totally self-motivated -- snow is forecast for parts of the state tonight and the leaf collection trucks were a block away.  I still have raking and garden cleanup but I’ve been stressing about getting the bulbs in before a hard frost.  And raking . . . well, my big tree is starting to release leaves but plenty of those golden gifts are still on branches and there is one more small tree that have not let go of a single gem.  

Talked to Cheshire last night and talk about raking almost surprised.  I remember the sentiment.  Those NYC years of hardly noticing changes of seasons by what was happening in gardens and on suburban streets.  Leaves were accessories and no one owned a rake.  

Feeling the lift of finishing my mother’s estate.  Taxes and a small reserve is all that is left.  Checks have been cashed and are no longer my concern.  I am ready to let go of all of it.  I hope it is ready to let go of me.  

With the lift of that burden, I’ve once again fallen head long into my picture files to scan and sort.  My new scanner does a fine job and most pictures are better scanned than in the original.  And I am writing about the relatives that I know about realizing at times that I know nothing but vague memories of event that have no time or place.  I write of a child’s perceptions and have no way of filling in empty holes.  For example, my uncle was married twice.  I don’t remember his first wife and his daughter although I may have met them but I remember his son from that marriage.  My last memory of him was either before or just after my sister was born.  I was 5 or 6, Paul was 8 or 9.  I remember his striped polo shirt and that he was so much taller than I was.  I, the chubby child mountain.  I was the oldest of most of the cousins and friends that my parents entertained and so big boys were a mystery to me.  I looked up at Paul and he was just lovely.  I would not say that I had a crush on him, even a 5 year old crush, but an acute admiration.

And then, that boy, that cousin Paul, vanished from my life.  My uncle had a second wife and was beginning a second family -- my sister and his oldest child from that marriage the same age -- and Paul was no longer.  My pictures, my grandmother’s pictures, attest to how he was adored by his grandparents and my parents, but he was gone.  I remember my grandmother mentioning him in hushed tones, but rarely.  He was not talked about, no birthday cards sent or received from him.  No pictures of his school years or graduations or wedding.  Of course, I do not know this absolutely, but he was out of my world and by the time that my uncle produced his second brood, Paul and his sister were never even thought of.

What surprises me is that I never asked.  Never had a curious bone in my body about this boy.  I google his name -- the one that I know -- and come up with nothing.  He is just lost.

Observed and written on Wednesday, 24 October

Shadowing Julia is school today.  

Julia starts in Ms. K’s room (homeroom) and then travels downstairs to Ms. S’s room for math.  

Math class: Julia works in a fifth grade group learning mode, mean, range and median.  This is a core class and Julia must be in it.  The intellectual concept is beyond her but her SE teacher sits with her slowly going through the procedures to find each number.  There are two other girls at the same table and they ask the SE teacher questions.  She is able to answer the questions and go back to Julia.  The procedures include putting the numbers in order, adding them together and dividing.  All are things that Julia needs to work on and that she is closer to doing -- although putting numbers in order is still hard for her.  She and her SE teacher work with manipulatives to arrange numbers and then add them.  Julia get distracted, stims some by rubbing fingers together or rubbing her head, and sometimes is no where near on task but Ms. H. perserveres.  Julia is recaptured and gets on task again.  It is hard for Julia to listen FIRST and then do a task.  What is working here is that Julia is able to be included in the class and at the same time have a smaller lesson imbedded into the class.  She is adding a series of numbers to find the average by adding and counting to get to 67.  She checks it by using the calculator.  It takes a long time but eventually she does it and feels that she is doing a good job.

The class does three changes before sitting down again.  Upstairs to homeroom, downstairs for vision checking (Julia needs to see a doc.   I’ve been noticing her squinting recently so this is not a surprise.  She became a bit frustrated with the testing but got through it enough to know she needs more.)  Upstairs to homeroom to read silently (Warrior Cat book) and then down the hall to Ms. F’s room for science.  Julia needs some directing to lead the line back upstairs.  She sits and reads without any problem at all.  She does say some of the words out loud but quietly and without bothering her neighbors.  There is a great range of reading material in the class -- adventure like Warrior Cats and Stranded, fantasy like Pegasus, nonfiction for history or science like Volcanos and other natural disasters, graphic novels like Bones.

Julia needs to be reminded to get her science notebook and at the first reminder she says, “later.”  Ms. H. insists and Julia does it.  I am expecting the transition from reading to science to be harder.  Julia is given her “homework sheet” to fill is and then needs to shift to science before

Science: (9:20 am) Julia can participate in class but needs to be cued to stay on task over and over.  She is concentrating on picking on her fingers, even getting distracted by them when she raises her hand.  Mrs. F. cues Julia separately to find the page in her notebook for the experiment they are doing.  The three others in her group begin to set up the experiment.  Julia needs to be cued to look at their solution.  Julia is asked about the experiment and she answers with something about Harry Potter.  Ms. H is not able to get her on task -- she interrupts Julia over and over.  I finally ask Julia what she is doing and for a moment she focuses on the experiment.  Later, she shouts out about Harry Potter world when asked about the experiment.  

I wonder what the optimal amount of time that Julia can concentrate on anything she is not interested in.  Obviously, filtering a solution is of little interest to her.  But she is not disruptive with disinterest.  Ms. H asks her to put the gram pieces in order and she an engage in that with help.  She needs help being a participant.  Her group cues and asks her multiple times.  She responds.

Julia needs to be pushed and prodded to move along.  She doesn’t understand what is going on and her distraction increases.  However, looking around the room, there is probably a good quarter of the class that is not engaged but they are socializing generalizing, not perseverating on their hands.   By the end of the class, Julia is turned away from the teacher and the board where the lesson is focuses.  Ms. H physically refocuses her and then asks her to leave the room to wash her hands.  I am not sure whether the hand washing is because her hands are dirty or to try to refocus her, either way, she needs to be closely directed to do this.  

Strings: Julia has trouble getting downstairs.  Well, she gets down to the basement but wants to wait to go into the music room instead of going to the strings room.  She insists to me that it is music where she belongs until Victoria, her aide for strings, comes to get her.  She is very distracted as she gets her cello from the shelves, gets to her seat and opens her cello.  She needs a lot of direction.  Once the cello is out, Victoria reviews finger positions with Julia while the rest of the class gets settled.  Julia does fine with this but balks when she is asked to go to the teacher to be tuned.  She does it and is the last person tuned in class.

The music teacher asks to turn to page 12 and Julia has a hard time complying.  She says she is a bad girl and stupid.  She is getting loud and shouting out.  This feels like an escalation from science class.  Page 12 is way to hard for Julia.  Admittedly we started later than the other kids.  Julia was not bringing home assignments because she doesn’t being home assignments and I was waiting for direction.  We really just got started with the book this week.  We are on pages 6-7.  Most of the kids are doing page 12 pretty well.  Obviously this is a group that practices.  Julia has settled down and is working on the measured assigned.  She stops to work on the exercise that Martha (her cello teacher) assigned yesterday.   Victoria is trying to explain something in terms of dinosaur claws, Julia will not accept what Victoria says.  Instead, 

The class is stretching, Julia cannot put her cello down and then doesn’t want to do the exercises.  This is exactly what she needs!  She talks out and makes noises instead of of moving.  No one tries to make her do the exercises.  I don’t blame them.  Julia rather talk out than follow directions.  This is behavior that drives me crazy.  

When it is time to play the cello, Julia tries to do what the class does.  The two lines of music are too hard for Julia to do slowly, quickly is impossible.  Julia also does not understand connecting the measures yet.  And yet, she tries with lots of help from Victoria.  

When the class switches activities and works on bow hold with a pencil, Julia is resistant, goes back to making noises.  After Victoria talks and talks to her, Julia is able to  approximate the hold and does what she is asked.  Julia notices a rash on her teacher’s skin and perseverates on that.  Much of what she is doing in strings is directly opposite what her private cello teacher is telling her to do.  This might be a problem for a typical child, for Julia I may be asking too much.  Julia is supposed to be doing bow activities, instead she talks and talks about Harry Potter until Victoria becomes cross.  The class is pretty loosely run and Julia seems to need more and more direction.  

Using bow: 4, 5, 6,7 and the halloween song

I spent part of the art period talking to Ms. H, Julia’s SE teacher.  I asked about SE theory.  Should we be pressing Julia to extend her own skills or give her the broad range of exposure that typical students get.  Ms. H is of the opinion that Julia needs the social piece of school so much that even if we could put more into her head by working more intensely academically that i would not serve her well in the long run.  Likewise, she opined that Julia would do best in the middle school where most of the kids in her class go so that she will not have to begin all over again socially in sixth grade.   

Art:  Julia is focused and almost does what her teacher wants before she is asked.  She takes suggestions and then goes beyond directions.  She is working with clay.

During cleanup, Julia bossed her friend Amanda to do a better (harder) job cleaning the table.  There will come a time when Julia will have to learn kindness and gentleness with her friends.  Katie, the art teacher, lets Julia walk around the room as other kids are made to sit on the rug.  I know that Julia is listening but she is being kind of spoiled here.  When she goes to sit down, she sits in front close to the teacher.  

After lunch, Julia is supposed to be with one of her aides, S, for reading.  They are working on compression which Julia sorely needs.  Julia would rather be working in the classroom on typing pal.  She offers a bit of resistance but complies relatively quickly.  

S begins by giving Julia some vocab words.  Today, words that end in -tion.  S explains term to Julia -- right now, irrigation -- much like I do at home.  S asks Julia to sum up the  the “story so far.”   S is also working on idioms and expressions --  “healthy as an ox.”  Julia is missing so many expressions that kids who are 12 have already picked up.  S has Julia re-read something she read yesterday.  She questions her constantly, pressing Julia to explain words and concepts and story development.  I do this at times and have wondered if it helped.  When S does it, it makes so much sense that this is good for Julia.  

There are two periods of recess during the school day and for the second one, Julia is not at all happy going outside.  She is less social this time although interestingly there are a few kids who come up to her and try to draw her into their groups.  

After recess, Ms. H uses a very easy book to work on writing with Julia.  I think Julia is filling out a review sheet on the story.  She erases a lot which takes way too much time.  Ms. H puts a 10 on top of the page for Julia to track her erasing.  Gosh, I wish I could think of something else to draw her out of her compulsions.  Julia doesn’t need someone to keep her on task but to keep her from  spending her time erasing and redoing.

Something interesting: in the past Julia could be very sensitive whenever someone touched her.  She could whine or yell or do something physical back.  Julia’s desk is next to a boy’s and when the boy closed his desk top and grazed Julia’s elbow, she didn’t say a thing.  I know that she can still do her old behavior at times, but there was a time when it was always.

Reading aloud:  Julia is allowed to draw while Ms. K reads aloud.  Amanda comes over to sit next to Julia to use Julia’s markers.  Julia puts them between herself and Amanda and does not keep any track of what Amanda is using.  

Cold rain and dark clouds began the day.  I missed morning meditation at the library but talked to Mary for a bit of perspective.   I have one more plant to getting into a garden bed but not in the rain.  It may almost get down to freezing tonight.  

I can feel the seasons giving way.  I notice more and more bare trees and the leaf color is no longer vibrant.  I love fall, I love watching the process of it but this is the point when I would like to hold on tight to the day.  Of course, there is only letting it go.  

I closed the storm windows on the second floor and in the sun room on back of the house.  I’ll call Ed soon to change screen to storms and wash windows on the first floor very soon.  Unfortunately there was two windows in the play room that are open at the top and will not close.  If they would, the house would be warmer.  This is when I curse the old wood windows and wish for replacements!  What I love about the old windows is the old glass that is subtly different than new glass.  Imperfect with tiny distortions.  I had to replace the glass in one old window in my bedroom and right away I could see the difference.  But imperfection is a beautiful pain!  

Time to get back to inside work.  Since my Waisman work has not yet appeared, I have time on my hands and house projects -- those old sorting and ordering projects from two years ago -- to finish.  Today, I made labels for two boxes of Julia stuff.  I have another box of recent finance stuff to finish ordering and then it is back to old pictures.  Perhaps it is time to scan lots of the old stuff so that I can share both more of the originals and the digitized scans with other dear ones.

I am quietly digesting the idea that my mother’s estate will not close this year.  It is four and a half years old. For a very short week or two, I was blinded by the light at the end of the tunnel.  Alas, my brother seems to want to stand between me and that light.  Not much to do but go through what ever process he wants to take us through and watch the bank balance slowly diminish.  Sad.  I was so ready to let go of those tasks.  I have to smile at that last statement, I’ve been “ready” to let go of the tasks for about four of those four and a half years.  

Julia came out of the school building alone today (I’m sure there was a teacher lurking behind her but no one was needed to coax her out the door.), saw me and came right over with some burning information to share.  This scenario is still unusual but very nice.  Then, a girl (S) who is in Julia’s class for the first time, stopped Julia and told her that she would bring in “the book” for Julia tomorrow.  Julia turned to her and said, “sure.” and S said good-bye.  Julia did not respond but did not totally ignore S either.  When S was out of hearing, I asked what book S was talking about.  Julia said, “Really, mom, I have no idea.”  But at least she said “sure” to S.

This morning, Julia told me she had a dream that two of her classmates came over for a sleep over.  She has two days off next week.  Perhaps we can do something with those classmates. 

Crazy time.  More and more and more coming at me.  Sitting for a mommy moment: Julia is supposed to be reading Judy Moody and getting ready to do her weekly writing homework.  Instead, she is annotating some drawings in her most recent sketch book.  

I let her annotate until she seems done and then she starts reading Judy Moody.  After testing this year, Julia came out with a lower reading level than they was in May.  Of course, we read all summer.  It is not Julia’s decoding that has fallen off but her comprehension.  These are the challenges that I attribute to autism.  Inference is almost impossible, summing up anything is painful and remembering from one page to the next is very hard.  Thus, Julia can read and understands lots of what she reads but most of it stays in her brain a very short time.  Actually, I don’t think that her comprehension has gotten worse but she tested worse because her comprehension is not good and probably the reading matter that was used was not as interesting to Julia as what they used in May.  Still, it worries me.  Living in the present, Julia’s present without spiraling into a grim future is almost impossible for me.  

My girl who wants to read the biggest and chunkiest of the adventure books -- Cat Warriors, Gregor the Overlander, and all the Harry Potter’s, has trouble distilling the story out of a very easy chapter book.  

So, we work.  The routine has become reading a chapter of a book on Sunday, set up Julia’s writing grid, fill out the basics (topic, characters, setting), write an introduction sentence and one more sentence.  Then on Monday and Tuesday, she adds another few sentences on each, and on Wednesday, she edits (puts capitals and periods in and corrects  verb tense) and writes a final draft.  It is long hard work.  But we put this kind of work into learning letters, into reading words, into counting and adding and multiplying.  She’s learned these things and learned a good work ethic as well.  Remembering all of that, I don’t worry at all about Julia’s future.

Julia’s behavior this last week was beginning to slip in school.  It happens every year but I am always surprised by it.  She starts great -- relatively focused and cooperative, and then when she figures out the lay of the land and is more trusting of the people around her, she tests and asserts her will.  She also shows anger and some aggression, this year not towards anyone.  

Her teacher’s description:  Since speaking to you yesterday, I have been thinking about possible changes we are seeing with Julia. As I reflected back to the beginning of the year, I remember Julia having most days going pretty smoothly despite the new 5th grade environments and teachers. Probably in the last three weeks, what I have been attributing to pre-teen kind of behavior at first (saying "Whatever" when re-directed) has gotten more pronounced. When issues come up - like going to recess yesterday - Julia was so mad she threw rock at glass door, jumped a few times and made mean face, went to fence- shook fence, spotted rock and started scratching fence (as I had mentioned to you yesterday). I am realizing this was pretty intense. I still need to get info on Wednesday's events you asked about.  What is your take? Do you think this sounds like past behaviors or is this new to you as well? Is it due to pre-teen hormones, or is it her meds? 

As always she wants to do well, and for the most part is following directions. We do hear her making statements about not being a good student, etc. Maybe she is feeling lack of control over her impulses.”

Yes, intense, but then again, she did not hurt or try to hurt anyone, she didn’t make much noise, and she got outside pretty quickly.  At least, relatively speaking.  So, this is better than last year and the year before, when the aggression may have been directed at someone and/or the noise would have be significant.  

But after reflection, there is another take on this behavior.  Instead of attributing Julia’s behavior with a growing comfort level and an assertion of her will, it may be that she is comfortable enough with her new surroundings to feel those things that make her uncomfortable.  In the past, Julia showed a great deal of hypervigilence.  Her attention was focused on defending herself and not on learning or any other useful childhood endeavor.  As the hypervigilence subsided, there was much more “bad” behavior.  Some of that behavior was direct reaction to something in her environment that she could not tolerate.  

The easiest example to explain is that when Julia was in second grade we (her teachers) finally figured out that her morning tantrums and meltdowns when she refused to go into the school building were about her not being able to stand the noise of the school lockers.  I began bringing her early to school, she went into the classroom without going into the playground, and her locker stuff was kept in a box inside the classroom.  Getting into school got a whole lot easier.  

So, it could be that this current behavior and the anger that precedes has a cause apart from Julia’s not wanting to go out for recess.  I don’t have any answers, just this possibility.  

On to more.  I’ve had an incredible week.  Lots of learning and practice.  Last Tuesday, Awakening Joy and Greater Well Being” An Evening with James Baraz.  Then on Friday, it was an evening with Jon Kabat-Zinn & Richard Davidson.  Tonight, James Baraz came to the meditation group I attend and taught.  Tomorrow and Tuesday, I am going to a conference for Contemplative Practices to Promote Child and Family Well-Being.  Some of this was long planned and some just came up and I grabbed at it.  I have been saying to myself lately that I have begun to take this path seriously.  It is the first time in a long time that I am allowing passion to take on a life of its own, allowing something to sweep me away.  It feels like it is perfectly ordinary, normal and right.  There is a good sigh in that last sentence.

We had a lovely weekend -- weather so beautiful you could cry with every breath.  Julia and I stayed close to home, slept in, did chores and gardening.  This morning we went to a little farmer’s market -- Julia paying and taking change from sellers -- and then to do a big food shopping.  I came home to make the fall’s first beef stew which was splendid.  Julia did home work and played her cello -- she can now play bow each string separately.  She could not do that a week ago. I think I have found a (another) teacher.  We try her out on Tuesday.  I hope it goes well because Julia really seems to be taking to music.  When I clap a four out for her to pluck, I give her “four for nothing.” I explained it to her as the time to get the beat into her body, way into her core, and she listened very intently.  Remarkable for her.

At the grocery store, the butcher who I’ve asked for meat a few times in the past month, said he didn’t recognize me with my hat on.  I said something back and we exchanged a few pleasantries.  I walked away and it hit me that no one has noticed me in a long time.  I don’t mean my friends -- they notice me often.  I don’t mean some kind of flirty notice -- not that there is anything wrong with that, but there are no eyes who admire me.  No eyes that I want to be admired by.  Widows are invisible.  I’ve heard that often but didn’t really know what it meant.  But today, with just a little notice, I realized how invisible I have been for this long time.  No one admired my wedding clothes a few weeks ago, no one notices when I get a hair cut.  This is not vanity or ego, not a longing for complements in the least.   Once again, I am pulled up short discovering yet another pool of lack, another of those things that David did for me (and hopefully, what I did for him) that goes undone.  

And I miss being noticed by a pair of fine eyes.  I’ve never thought of myself as particularly noticed, but to be invisible   . . . .