i almost wish i hadn't read tripp's post before posting tonight, because it really didn't influence me to write. it's the fourth anniversary of the day my mother died, and i always write around this day. i look back and reread the years before, and end of reflecting how things change. how i change. how much also stays the same.

last night i had an absolute jahrzeit-related meltdown. it started brewing after school when i had taken my SCA kids carolling at a home for invalid elderly people. the flashbacks and sights and smells of people nearing the ends of their lives was just too intense. that feeling was practically palpable and i couldn't stop thinking of the way my mom looked four years ago. the noises she made and the drugs that she took and the sounds and their eyes. it was just too much for me yesterday. it is still too much for me today.

after dark i was making my way precariously through the windy, pitch black roads of harrisonburg, bringing home a third grade girl who remained with me well after the 5.45 pickup time after our trip. when i called home three hours after the time she would normally be getting off the bus, her grandmother answered the phone and said, "oh, we had wondered where she was." they wondered where their eight year old was.

when i was this little girl's age the cancer was growing in my mother but we didn't know it yet. i was still happy and i skipped around and life hadn't shown itself to me yet. as we drove those dark roads last night a piece of me wanted to turn the other way and drive away, to take that little girl away from whatever shit-tastic life would be there for her when she walked through their front door, thinking maybe, somehow, i could play holden caulfield and just catch her.

on the way home, i talked to my father. and we both sobbed. december 18 will always be shitty. thinking about it will be shitty. and i will continue to be sad and angry and lonesome for my mother. and things will change, but things will stay the same.

i am helping to raise a child. i just vocalized that notion for the first time a day or two ago and it blew my mind. i am part of what is shaping zane's life. it's different than just being a teacher. and it takes priority. my family within these walls is my life now. i miss posting, miss the seemingly carefree days when i blah-blah-blahed about boys and drinking and complained a lot. several times a day i bet i think about a post, compose something in my head that never comes to fruition at a keyboard. and i lament that. i envy ray for seemingly being able to strike a balance that, for the moment, seems elusive.

but i am still here.