Sometimes I hate November. I could do with skipping the whole month, especially the first few weeks. This year it’s the 4th anniversary of my mom’s death. And it’s painful as hell. Some days the pain comes strong and furious, gripping my throat and squeezing hard. Those days I want to just crawl under the covers and sleep, or get lost in a book or a movie. Of course, I can’t do any of those things with a young daughter who needs me all the time. I try to get lost in her, or activities with her, and it helps some.
Today we strung up the lights on the house. Just one strand, around the door, to give some color for the holidays. We won’t turn them on until after Thanksgiving, but I’m happy that they’re up and ready to go.
We also took down the last of the garden, rolling up the fencing and putting away the tomato stakes. We composted everything from the garden that was on its way out (the carrots, kale, beets, rosemary and chives are still going strong). We raked a bit and threw those in the compost bin too. I look forward to using the new dirt next year. I look forward to planning the garden again during the cold heart of winter.
Pip’s off to nap soon. The time change has kind of messed us up, but, just like with everything else, we’ll go with the flow.
And maybe then I’ll get the chance to crawl in the bed next to her and rest. Or take a hot shower, and try to forget. Or let the tears flow, and be washed away.