I have been watching lots of period romance, can-never-be-together tearjerkers, lately. Why is that? Maybe I'm just hormonal, mooning around wanting romance. Maybe I'm trying to process the things I've been thinking about lately (people, relationships, etc.). Maybe I'm looking for a safe, controlled outlet for tears.
Today I sat in a room with my dying father, watching through the window as my seven-year-old son rolled down a sun-splashed hill in brilliant flashes of white T-shirt and red sweatpants. Life energies and generations; one waxing, the other waning.
I have buried myself in classes and causes, but none are a perfect escape route. Reality continues, with or without my cooperation.
We're caught in the grey, now. Not knowing when, we feel the need to watch and wait, cling to moments. We look back, and look forward. Both make us cry.
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