It's been about 54 weeks since the longest night of my life.
Some things are easier. The days are busy and the evenings are busier.
The kids are growing so fast and expanding their worlds as much as they can.
Life is certainly an adventure and every day has experiences that both make me smile as well as roll my eyes.
Home from work late last night, Boy came out to say goodnight and give me a hug.
He crawled up on my lap and buried his face in the hollow of my neck.
"Give me a big hug", I said and he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed.
I squeezed him back only to hear, "buuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrp" beneath my ear.
He pulled his head back with a huge grin, looking into my eyes.
Life is so precious.
Then it is 3am again.
I wake up to a dream. Again.
"CALL 911! SOMEONE CALL 911! MY BOY FELL IN THE POND AND ISN'T BREATHING!"
I see myself continuing chest compressions as I yell.
I see the biggest blue eyes I have ever seen; a blank stare not seeing me.
I wake up. My mind a destructive tornado of thoughts that swirl around.
Vignettes of that afternoon. Songs from the radio. Projects at work.
Happy tears that what woke me up was a dream, only a dream that has the happiest of endings.
In spite of knowing the ending that is all good, I still see moments from that day - they flash before me.
Calming my mind to fall back asleep is beyond the discipline of my mind.