You know, the same thing I told you pretty much every single night of your life.
Except then I had to chuckle (through the tears that were threatening). I told Michael that unless things have changed drastically, you probably aren't sleeping. Even if there is sleep in heaven (I kinda hope there is), it's night time, and you're a serious night owl.
I watched Michael play church ball tonight, and David play soccer. I figure if I don't have to be home, if I have this newfound freedom (which I didn't want), I would go see your brothers. I have missed being able to see them. I'm working on blankets for your nephews and have to finish the one for Jonny and Avanlee before they leave next week, so I took theirs with me. As I sat there on the side, I realized the last time I crocheted during church ball was making your blanket. Oh, boy...
As I sit here writing to you, it's so quiet. I can hear Sophie breathing and her tags rattle when she moves. Michael's ankle pops as he moves it. The ticking of the clock across the room is distinct, and the silence almost rings in my ears.
I finally turned off the camera in your room yesterday. Daddy mentioned probably a week or so ago that we didn't really need it on anymore. He's right, but still...
I painted today, too. A client struggled with fingerpainting and wanted me to join them. Art releases a lot of emotion and the combination of color with the sensory experience of the texture is powerful.
A large heart. Blue for sorrow, but tinged with pink for love and yellow for joy. Blue raindrops with gray for numbness and still a little pink for love. Purple pansies for strength and a pink butterfly with purple and yellow accents.
Honestly, I just did it. I didn't let myself think about it as I was doing it because I needed to stay present for my client. It was their session, not mine, but they needed support for the project so I did it with them. But now that I look at it here at home, well, it's cathartic. Maybe I need to paint more often.
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