Good grief!

Written last night:

 Good things today:

It began with a long, talking breakfast with Patrick. I love talking with him. How great to talk to your kids adult-to-adult! (Let's face it -- At this point, Patrick is much more the adult than I am!)

And my car is here! Patrick took care of the delivery, and drove her to the hotel before noon. Then we swung by a car wash and up and down a few streets to acclimate me to California driving: short blocks, pedestrians who (mostly) obey the lights, narrow lanes, one-way streets, bicycles and motorcycles galore. He turned the car over to me and that is when I got nervous. For practice, I considered taking a 40-minute  drive outside the city through the college town of Davis, and then to Winters, CA  (“You’ll get caught in terrible traffic on the way home.”) or just meandering  the streets of Sacramento for awhile. (“Mom, don’t you think it would be best to practice when there’s very little traffic? Why not go out early tomorrow morning?”) You know, he was right. I’ll learn my way around California soon enough. For the day anyway, Rosa is parked. 

This afternoon my sister Patrice and my friend Janis each gave me a surprise phone call. And I do mean GAVE. Hearing their voices was a gift. I echo Janis, who said that social media is great, but sometimes you just have to hear the voice. 

Also got the American Express card switched to me. It took an hour or more, and that was with everything going smoothly. 

Despite all the high points, now, in the evening, I feel numb and my brain is ringing. This must be stress or anxiety or grief — those professional words that I have come to hate. As a language lover, I believe that you must give things a name -- for instance,  “What you are feeling is grief.” When you name a thing you can deal with it, or so the idea goes. Recently I have read some pieces on grief, and I have been given a book or two. I find I resent having my experience analyzed. Knowing what’s happening, and naming it is supposed to capture life and settle a person down. But no. 

Perhaps this cussedness is also a symptom of grief. 

(Don’t worry! I’m feeling fine now. I just want to tell the complete story; I figure maybe you sometimes feel that way too.)

Love,

          K