That therapy session was last Wednesday -- Halloween.
My husband offered all kinds of things to help me through the exhaustion, sadness, and depression afterwards.
I didn't know what I needed. So mostly I sat on the sofa in a fog, and cried a little more as I tried to tell him about it.
Then I sat in the living room and waited for trick-or-treaters. And I'll tell you it's pretty hard not to smile when you have little Avengers and princesses and animal-people coming to your door with such anticipation and excitement on their faces.
And when the little boy who lives across the street, and is the cutest child in the world, comes a second time, and I offer just one more piece of candy, and he lays a package of 2 cookies on my candy tray, and his father explains (in his Welsh accent) that Radley wanted to give us a treat -- well what can you do but laugh and smile and feel a belly full of joy.
Then the next evening my husband tells me to close my eyes as he rips open a box from Amazon and places the softest thing in the world in my hands, and tells me to open my eyes, and I see this
I pull her close (because I know right away she's a girl) and snuggle her, and tears come into my eyes as I look up at my husband shyly and still amazed after 27 years of marriage, that he knows, that he gets, what I need in these moments of immense pain. And then he tells me that's just a little thing, the big thing is coming next week.
And suddenly it's still not okay that the horribles happened, but it's wonderful that I don't have to carry it alone anymore. And it's amazing that I have this man in my life, and these children of mine, and precious little people in costumes offering me cookies.
And I think about what I do and don't deserve. And it just doesn't matter so much.
linking up with imperfect prose on thursdays
