It’s been a hard week. Monday was a hard day. I don’t know when we’ll feel better. I do know that from the day we brought her home way back in 2010, Annie gave us all her love, and she brought us so much joy.
I do know that she made our lives better every day that she was here. I hope we gave her a happy life, too.
And I know that we’ll love and miss her always.
My sweet little weirdo. She was tired and slow, at the end, but she never lost her spark. She was a good dog.
And silly me, I thought when we moved to our new home – a relatively young and spritely 25-years-old – that I just wouldn’t have to worry about any kind of house problems for a while. Which is good, frankly, because it’s crazy around here with a toddler, a dog, a cat, and a husband who is amazing but often forgets where he left his everything. But y’all, here we are.
New house problems.
Sigh.
It’s not that big a deal. Our washing machine is leaking, and we didn’t notice until it started actively dripping. Through the ceiling.
Because you know, we don’t have enough going on, and they do say that when it rains it pours. Apparently, through the ceiling.
The good news is, this should all be fixed relatively quickly. There’s not any real water damage, and no signs of mold, and the washing machine will either be an easy repair or an exciting replacement. (Because when you’re almost 40 with a toddler, a new washing machine that works better and faster is, in fact, very exciting.)
I wish I had it in me to pity the hateful people who’ve brought us to this precipice. Taught only to be afraid and angry, the rage is all they’ve got. I wish I were strong enough to give them grace. But I’m not.
Being a mom keeps me busier than I have ever been in, well, pretty much my entire life. And it’s been a very long time since I’ve participated in a poetry challenge. But this one, y’all? It’s good. Really good. This one I could not pass up.
How tragic that so many can see the beauty in nature with all its diversity and act to eradicate that same quality in our shared humanity as if we live separately – detached, isolated – from the very earth that made us.
************
If you’d like to participate, as well, you’ve got until April 20th to post a poem of your own. I hope you do!
Behold! A declaration (not so bold): This girl is a queen with or without a crown. (But truth be told – and certainly as seen – a little decoration never hurt anyone, and is quite clearly very fun.)
Or so they say. I think practice, more importantly, makes fun, especially when it comes to music. There’s really nothing in the world quite like sitting down with cool people and making good noise.
And y’all, I am so happy and proud to report that Lucy agrees.
A little musician in the making. 😊 My heart is so happy.
(But we never did quite figure out how to play the song we were working on, because Lucy just really needed to strum on the instruments instead. Which, honestly, was so much better.)
Lucy has inherited, it seems, many things from me. My temper, my stubbornness, my curiosity, the shape of my eyes, my sleeping habits. We discover something new every day – some little look or mannerism – and it’s fascinating and funny and wonderful. Most wonderful of all?
Lucy loves music.
Musical toys have always been her favorite.
She’s super intrigued by my dad’s guitar and mandolin.
She likes it when I sing to her.
It’s been so lovely, to share music with my baby. And I knew that when we moved, we’d finally have the space for something I’ve always wanted, something that would bring even more music into our home.
It got here over the weekend.
And, y’all, it’s a big hit.
I am over the moon. Lucy and I agree: This is the best new toy ever.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 