I started this on Friday morning, the sixth day of Camilla's disappearance. I was going to use one of the pale stone threads. Keep it all in white, silver, and black. A memorial.
Then I dug through my threads. No stone colors in the box. I jumped directly to the color of hope without any context. I had become numb and was looking forward to getting away. I picked Charlie up at school and spent the night with them.
I blew through Costco on the way home. After a week of impotent anxiety and sleeplessness, it felt good to do something purposeful. Power shopping, not retail therapy. Less than a hundred bucks in less than twenty minutes. There's a win.
I was tired when I got home midday on Saturday. Lolled about. Fed my face. Camped in bed to just make the minutes pass with some mindless TV. Waiting had become a hideous habit.
That's when Camilla appeared at the dish on the floor under the screen. Her back is dark grey, the carpeting dark blue, and the light was afternoon soft. I stared hard to feel what I was seeing and believe it.
It's been a long time since this old body&soul felt such an unbidden thrill. I've banked it hard and now I need to take some time to review. I know there are more moments like this to haul out, dust off and experience again.
I picked the stitching up this morning and the familiar moves brought a measure of comfort. I still didn't sleep well even though Camilla was on the bed with me, by my feet while Salem held down her IKEA pillow at the head of the bed to my right. Sometimes I miss the old California King.
Not everyone is thrilled about her being home. Salem clings and grumbles if Camilla camps too close to me.
Maybe they adapt to change quicker, without the emotional baggage that we carry.
I have been working my way through a long list of Things Adults Must Do. It sucks, but each accomplishment feels like a door opening to something new and good.
I'm making room--headspace--to write.
Goals are good.
