Something to write about

The blog is 2 years old. An outlet to process my grief has become a full idea, hashtag, and mom identity. Who knew it would have such sustainability? (Also, hooray! Wait… hooray?)

In my writing class on Monday I was struck by the thought that I didn’t write a lot before Bob died. I wrote some fiction, dabbled in ideas here and there, but nothing kept my interest. Nothing fleshed out into a long term idea.

Then suddenly I had something to write about.

I started giving updates on Bob’s condition and progress, medical jargon and diagnoses mixed with hope and humor.

Here we are, three years after Bob’s diagnosis and how different my life has become. Pandemic and kids growing up aside, my life is completely different.

Bob and I used to joke about our life insurance. We’d pay the yawning maw of bills each month and dream about life without school loans, or credit card debt, or even having money in a savings account that wasn’t a crisis away from being empty.

Here I am with those financial dreams realized. But without Bob. And here I am with my writing, being able to continue my writing and not just have it on the side.

Here I am guys. It’s been… a journey? An adventure? A horrible drama I can’t escape? I horror show? A tragic comedy? All the things at once. Sometimes I get lucky and it’s one thing at a time but usually I can keep one step ahead of the steamroller of my life.

Last year I was convinced I would finish school, the pandemic would end and I would find a job in a law office.

The year before I was convinced Bob and I would have a third child, or i might maybe talk him into a third child. Paige was just starting to stand up and the oh-so-hard newborn days were coming to a slow close.

The year before that Bob and I were looking for a house while I grew a baby and chased a toddler, sometimes in another person’s house. The best were the empty ones where Char could practice her “echo!”

This year I don’t have expectations, save one- enjoy a summer in this house.

We moved in September 2017, when Paige was a month old.

The first summer Bob was on a liquid restriction and chemo.

The second summer I was a grieving hermit and didn’t know our neighbors all that well. I also had 2 toddlers, fun in a hot non-fenced yard.

Last year was pandemic lockdown. We saw some friends, but not often.

This summer will be different. This summer I will burn my skin even with sunscreen applications. This summer we will have our sprinklers set for fun and the old plastic pool given to Riker. This summer I will sit in the sun and then enjoy my AC inside.

Charlotte will be in camp. Paige will be in daycare. I will keep writing. Because for once I don’t have expectations on what my life will look like. Honestly, I have no freaking clue. So we just keep swimming.