Title borrowed without permission from the Veruca Salt song Disconnected from the album Resolver.

I am not sure which writing process other people use, but I often mull over my next topic for a few days before I sit down to type it out. Sometimes I jot notes down on paper, or write the whole thing longhand first. The reason for this is partly because we only have one computer for four people and partly because I like the pen and paper process. It is easier for me that way. With my kids increasingly turning to Google to do their homework instead of oh I don’t know, BOOKS, I am finding it harder than ever to get a moment’s peace on this computer. I had considered purchasing a laptop to write on, but the expense seems too much for me to justify spending on myself.

I had considered writing about the hell that was moving my Mom but with a week gone by now I find myself wanting to separate from the experience, not to relive it. Yes, it was hard and I had a lot of thoughts about it at the time but it’s over now and I just find myself tired of the subject. My siblings have been calling me and I’ve been letting it go to voicemail. They want to know how things went, and how my back is. I figure if they wanted to really witness it they could have shown up, even for a few hours. Monica did come on the final Saturday and Sunday and for that I am grateful. My Mom’s best friend showed up the last few days with her pickup truck and we never could have made it without her. She and my Mom have been friends since I was in diapers and she is one of my favorite people in the world. Plus, she showed up at 10 am with a six pack and told me it was time for a brewskie, making me laugh.

Now I want to look forward to my next steps. I would like to go to college and I am going to see if I can work out a schedule around Polly’s schedule so that I can still drop her off at school and pick her up. I considered taking some classes online but I think I really need to be in a classroom setting, at least to begin with, so that I can work on regaining the mentality of a student, if that makes any sense.

When I was a little girl I used to play this game inside my head that I called “Something to Look Forward To.” I would make sure that I always had something to look forward to, even if it was a book that I wanted to check out from the library or something big like my birthday or Christmas. Then when times got tough I would think about whatever it was to help me get through. Without giving it much thought I continued to play that little game in my head all the way until last week. For a long time my something to look forward to was the closing of my Mom’s house, with a sprinkling of moments such as “I can’t wait for Alex to have the night off so that we can be together” or “I can’t wait to take Nathan and Polly to the new Harry Potter movie.” Mostly though what I was most looking forward to was all wrapped up in the sale of that damn house. Now that it is gone I found myself checking my head for something to look forward to the other day when it dawned on me that I was looking forward to the future. The whole of it all stretched out in front of me waiting for me to shape it.

True to my earlier word I have been getting ready to give away 50% of my belongings (not including children). I am creating an area for things that must go in a dumpster, collecting bags of clothes to donate to the VVA, sorting through books for the used book sale at Polly’s school and listing things on eBay. I also broke my previous record on the amount of recycling I placed on the curb last night.

An online acquaintance gave me the address of a soldier friend of hers who is on his second tour of Iraq. I am putting together a care box for him and shopping for it has been fun. The whole family got involved and it feels good to be able to hope that we might be able to brighten someone’s day just a little. Anyone else looking to do something similar can check out http://www.booksforsoldiers.com

Panic attack count in the last week = 0. Numbers of times I have felt so depressed I’ve thought suicide was my only option = 0. I am feeling good, tired and bruised, but good.

I have been a bit out of sorts lately. Yesterday I took Polly to her school to leave for Outdoor School for a week. The buses were an hour late and it rained. I held up pretty well until she got onto the bus and I stood there in the rain and we mouthed things back and forth to each other, “I love you” ,”Have fun” “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” “Are you okay?”

As I stood there I started to cry but I thought I was keeping it together. I noticed that while a lot of the seats were packed with up to three kids no one sat next to Polly. I wished that they could have had Outdoor School in the spring, after she’s had a chance to make some friends. She never took her eyes off of me the whole time she waited for the bus to pull away. One of the Moms came over to where I stood and asked me, “Are you going to be okay?” I looked at her, confused. “Yes, I’m fine.” “Well I am a nurse. I just wanted to let you know. In case you need anything.”

God, I must have looked worse than I thought. I waved and blew kisses as the bus pulled away and cried most of the way home. Polly has never been away from me this many nights. Last night I skipped doing the dishes and went to bed early. This morning I got up and got Nathan off to school. When I entered the kitchen there were fruit flies everywhere. Where did they come from? As I washed the dishes I listened to the Billie Holiday CD my husband got for me, “Stormy Weather”.

I have loved her voice for so long I can’t even remember when my love for her music began. I felt better as I wiped the counters and swept the floor. The blues, cheering me up, go figure.