Sky Blue

Isn't grief such a strange creature? A stealth pilot, a sneaky snake, a crashing wave. Last night, lying in bed reading, Handy Man decided he needed a little late night nourishment and grabbed his Easter basket of goodies. First he pulled out his chocolate bunny and offered it to me. I declined. Next, a Russell Stover caramel egg. Crash! I'm drowning.

The last day I sat at the hospital with Kaye, I brought her a treat- a Russell Stover's treat, a favorite goody to make her smile, smack her lips, smile at me and say, "Dat's good." But she refused it. I see that whole scene in my mind so clearly, like someone had videoed from across the room and now I'm watching. Her sadness, tiredness, lifelessness so obvious to me.

I get why people used to wear black for a year. Don't get me wrong, I have no plans, nor do I think it a good idea to be in a black mood for a year, but at least you'd be recognizable as a grief stricken person. Perhaps just a band on your arm. I don't know. Sometimes I tell Handy Man, "I'm just having a moment." When that sneaky snake wraps around my tear ducts, I don't want to have to explain why I'm suddenly in tears. I didn't mean to be, it is just very suddenly present. I don't need to talk, don't want a hug, don't need a thing but a moment. I am torn because in some strange way those moments comfort me- see, I haven't forgotten, she's very there in my mind's eye, in my heart. Otherwise, I don't want my moment to make the people around me uncomfortable, which it obviously does. Yes, I realize you aren't having a moment, perhaps you never do, but I am.

Well, anyway, a new day with the bluest sky.

I don't post faces of my school kiddos on my blog. However, this year one of my sweet little fourth graders is well known to me and his mama don't mind and he loves blog appearances. Today was a special day.

It was his eleventh birthday and the day we put the eggs in the incubator at school. He got to do the honors. The girls just happened to lay eleven eggs for hatching which I had failed to connect, but he did not and was excited to put all eleven in the incubator.

Then it was Poopie night and Great Uncle Tim and I met up to take the kiddos to enjoy a rare artifact- a playground with a swing. The kids loved swinging so high and the sky was so blue and beautiful.

Wow, he fits in this one.

And what did little three year old Miss Swee-Tee say after a couple of hours at the park, walking to the car? " Are we going to yours?" "Swing in the dolphin swing?" I do not know what it is about that dolphin swing.

We ran by the house and grabbed the eggs laid today and took them to school so Missy Swee-Tee could put them in the incubator as she has not been privy to this baby chick hatching before.

Lord willing we will head back to a incubator full of babies in three more Thursdays.

Oh, an e-mail from the mom of a former student (in tenth grade now ) who wrote to tell me that her son had to write about an event that changed his life and he wrote about his fourth and fifth grade teacher- me. So sweet.

I love me some blue sky days.