Someone, bring in the garbage please

So, I've been busy; busy and having a good time visiting with people here and away. A thought I had was that I feel like I am coming out of a long, dark tunnel. I feel a bit bewildered, blinking back the light. I still feel a bit disconnected to things that I felt connected to before. (Like my brain. Where did that go?) I'm making some effort to swim along with the rest of humanity, and hoping that it's not completely obvious that I'm pretty bad at this. Yet, I can laugh, and I can connect with people. I just feel, well, different. Not sure of my place, identity, or anything else. Yet, I do know I'm loved. And that's a good thing. Loved even though I'm feeling pretty lousy about reaching out.

So, time keeps going by and here it is April already. I noticed that when I wasn't writing, Peter kept popping up in my dreams. I would awaken, sometimes disturbed, and not be able to go back to sleep. I wondered if my writing was helping me process (duh), and without it, I was processing all right, but it was put off until the night hours when I didn't have a conscious choice about it.

I try not to fall into self-pitying (pitiful!) thoughts, but this afternoon I slipped as I was driving home. I was thinking about the little chore that faced me of walking the garbage, recycling and compost bins up the driveway to the backyard after the pick-up this morning. (The driveway is hardly longer than the length of the car. This is pitiful.) That was Peter's job, and I was mad that I didn't have him to share responsibilities with; large or small. I noticed my foible, and as I was battling that thought back, I drove up to see that some kind person had done the deed while I was at work. I laughed, and was humbled.

Peter, I miss you like crazy. When this is all over, I wonder what I'll think. Wonder that it wasn't such a long time after all between seeing you last February and seeing you again. That darn time/space deal. It sure can be hard from this side. I'll try to be patient.