Saturday, April 11, 2009


It's a little silly, but I watch this British soap. I have since 1994 when I lived in Dublin. We're far behind the times since I watch it on CBC, and I'm about two months behind even that, with weeks and weeks on the DVR. I'm having a sorta marathon watching it tonight, loving it with a cup of tea and a little toast.

There is a young couple on the soap who has lost their child and I know, I know, it's soap opera, but as I was looking at the tiny coffin I thought about another conversation with a friend earlier today. She was talking about living the moment, something that both of us have a problem doing, but recognize that is what life is, living in the moment. We both manage to do it on occasion with our children, but spend so much time otherwise ruminating. Marinating.

When I stopped living in that moment, I slid. I'm done sliding. I'm counting blessings and thinking about what I want in friends and family. I'm leaving my soul open. I'm counting on Easter.

In the morning when they found the stone rolled back, do you think that one of them was thinking about email or texts or wondering about posts? Or did they look up and notice how the sky was lilac before the dawn, hold each other hands as smell of day came forth, the dank smell of the stone tomb, the oils settled into the rocks, the sheet left behind, the sweet smell-- nothing dead or of death and the sky lightening into pink and orange and the sun coming up over the hill... I hope they were fully in that moment, I hope realization of the miracle crept over them and they weren't thinking of anything else.

Like now, my boy sleeping in the next room, the smell of lavender, the blooming hyacinth, the plugged up sink in the basement, the beauty.


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