The rhythm is gonna getcha

I'm used to the staccato rhythm of grief and sadness. The short phrases that my voice chokes out in a cadence of punches...blows to the heart. It reflects itself in my writing. Twitter-sized thoughts...condensed to 140 characters or less. Spit it out and move away.

So I must admit I am enjoying this not-new-but-not-quite-familiar feeling that has me threading moments together into something strong but soft and beautiful. There is a continuity that lets us fight about who left the lid off the jar of peanut butter (and laughing about it later). There are long and complicated thoughts that run together but aren't so harsh that they need to be purged from the soul via the keyboard. In fact, they are soothing in a way as they wrap themselves around the soul and remind me that this can be life too.

I will never apologize for the level of great joy my two living children bring to me. Watching them play and laugh together is the best kind of soothing balm for my battered heart. And once again there is no point to get to...no life or death decisions to make...no wondering if tomorrow will bring disaster. We just spend the time along this thread without wondering if we will lose our footing and fall off the high-wire.

My family, my work, my volunteer work...they are all so amazing. Yes, there are things about each that drive me batshit crazy at times. But then I remember how wonderful this is...this NORMALCY...and I work my way around the minor irritation(s).

I don't mind admitting that it's just so lovely to feel the rhythm of happiness again. Don't get me wrong...sometimes that harsh drumbeat of grief bursts through and temporarily ruins the sweet melody of peace (thank you, Fisher Price), BUT it isn't all I hear anymore.

I think I'm gonna make it. I don't know how or why. But that's fine. I don't need to know how or why.