Day One Hundred Seventy-three

I don't think I get a greater sense of joy than when I'm sitting on my back patio, surrounded by so much natural beauty and being serenaded by the crickets. It's interesting how their sounds layer on top of one another to produce such a loud chirp, as if it's one big cricket, and then, slowly, the sounds begin to effect a delay, just disrupting the synchronization enough to sound like there are many, many more crickets. Then, in an undisrupted symphony they somehow mesh again into one big sound. Maybe this is how the adage, "lulled to sleep" came into use - it's definitely a sound that would sooth the anxiety, calm the mind, and bring on slumber. Quite a sublime part of the night. I almost can imagine myself in a Tennessee Williams narrative. The cool of the evening after a hot, hot summer day. The chirping of the crickets, the water softly flowing in and out of the fountain basin, and the faint sounds of some New Orleans style jazz wafting up the hill from downtown and into my backyard. With my bare feet propped on the porch railing, I can picture myself wearing some shear linen nightdress - I'm already barefoot - and sipping on a mint julip waiting for Paul Newman to come walking up to the porch all sweaty and exhausted from putt'n in a hard days work on daddy's plantation. Ya'll know what I mean.

Whoa, back to the high desert of Carson City. The evenings are rather lovely here in the summer. Now I'm beginning to feel a cool breeze. But the mornings are sneaking in under a cooler layer of the next season and, as usual, the warm will not last. I can only hope for that Indian Summer that we always seem to welcome just as our Nevada Day rolls near. This is my favorite season, when the angle of sun makes the shadows a little longer, and the color of my surroundings gets deeper and less saturated with the green of plants growing in their glory. A time of change, visually mesmerizing. Fall will be good, full of many memories. But Winter will be another story.

Day One Hundred Seventy-Two

There are some sports that have what is called a "consolation" round. If you lose early enough in the competition, you are consoled in knowing that you may still have a chance to win something, even if it's not the big prize. I remember a consolation bracket in tennis. There were a few times when I was relegated to that designation and always felt rather exiled and not very consoled by having the ability to still be a "winner" at something. The fact that I had lost in the main competition was a disappointment that was not going to get any better by winning in the losers bracket. The main competition was what actually meant something to me. I rather feel that way about life right now. I've lost the chance to win the big prize and am now off in the losers bracket trying to make something good out of the startling reality I couldn't keep my son safe from harm.

Day One Hundred Seventy-One

When I first began this blog my intention was to write everyday. As I began, there were times when I just wasn't feeling it or other interests and commitments got in the way of actually chronicaling each day consecutively. Several times, entries became the conglomeration of several days as one entry. Then came the job at the legislature and I couldn't keep up. I vowed I would begin again once session was over. Then my world was turned upside down and I'm still hanging by my toes.

It feels good to be writing again as I love to put my thoughts on paper and see the words come to life as they describe my very human experiences. At times it's quite painful to introspect and reflect on the passages of one's life, but in the end, I am more contented with my thoughts and feelings if they are memorialized. I'm not sure, however, the exercise will be the catharsis I am hoping for. The rhyme and reason I am searching so desperately to find may never come. I only hope some semblance of joy returns, if only just to honor the fact that I was the conduit to have helped bring Jay and Eric into this world. Like all mothers, I just wanted so badly to see my sons living a joyous life. Now I'm afraid my husband is unduly suffering by witnessing my unending grief. I know he wants so desperately to take my pain away. I feel rather pathetic at times as I'm not the only one in this world who is grieving the loss of a child, unfortunately, even though my intellect knows this, my heart has not got the message yet, if it ever will.

I do know that when I rise in the morning, make my pot of tea, and step into the backyard to feed the dog and water my garden, I feel such a contentment that I have never felt before. I have always said Carson City never felt like my true home, but that all changed on April 20, 2011, when the memories forged here over the years became all that was left of a young man whose life began 23 years ago in this little town. I feel my home and yard have become my cocoon of those memories, collected over the past 19 years we have lived on Crain Street. So many, many memories of two little boys growing up and so many, many memories of two young men coming into their own. I love both of them so - they are my success, my greatest joy, and now one has become my greatest sorrow.

Day One Hundred Seventy

It seems like each day just blurs into the next. My days are mostly satisfying, especially those times when I'm at work, which is a total turnaround from any notion I've every harbored about work being enjoyable. I've always said my job never defined me the way it does for many people. I never understood those who could say their jobs were fulfilling. I always looked at employment as a means to live the life one desires to live and even with that said, I still couldn't stay at a job once I was bored with it. Restless, restless, restless - I thought this is what would define me to the end. Now I feel like I just want to stay put.

I had a dream the other night that was the most vividly real dream I've ever experienced. I was sitting on a mountain looking off toward a bay or ocean. There were hills rolling down to the water's edge and little bays and islands full of pine trees. It was nighttime, but it was lit up as though a huge full moon was near and even though it was night, there were many intense colors but very dark colors. The sky over the water was full of long, lenticular clouds with the light shining upon them. All of a sudden the land I was sitting on began to drift. The motion scared me but I told myself not to be scared, to go with it and "ride it out" if you will. It was a large mass of land moving away from the water and felt very powerful, almost as if I was riding an earthquake. Then the sky began to change and flash. The colors remained the same and it still appeared to be nighttime. I began to see abstract images in the sky and convinced myself I was dying. I was aware I could turn back, away from the images and stop the process of dying, but I didn't want to. I kept looking at the images which I knew were parts of my life. I saw Eric's eyes, his hands and other parts of him. I saw abstract images of his face, smiling. I wanted to see more and told myself to stay where I was and go with the experience. I was not afraid to die. I didn't desire it, but I didn't fear it either. I just remember the colors and serenity were overpowering. I don't remember any more of the dream.