Broken-Winged Bird

Yesterday I had a depression jag a la 'hurting my own feelings', i.e. getting upset about something I can't control without any precipitating event.

Well, there was kind of a precipitating event. My children's smiles. Last night I was putting away dinner and Brother was doing homework and he was telling me this story about school. I have no clue what it was about, but I remember he thought it was hilarious. I can see in my mind's eye how his face lit up when he came to the punch line. I can hear him trying to finish while choking back the laughter. I can see the moment the humor hit him like a tidal wave of sunshine blossoming out of him in belly laughs. I remember not seeing the humor in the joke, but reveling in the beautiful expression on his face.

And then later, we were all sitting on the floor in Jelly Bean's room while Brother was reading his textbook aloud to us. And Honey was tickling a little teeny Bean, who was wearing some bloomer type shorts over his diaper and nothing else. I can see his small pale body scamper away from Honey, chortling all the way. I can see the pure joy in his grin as he scoots just a little closer to Honey, hoping for another tickle.

These kids are just so precious. And I miss it. All day long, every day. I miss it. Someone else looks at their grins and hears them laugh. My memory is so poor. I feel like the past few years have flown by so quickly and all I can remember is past work projects or conferences or research. I can't remember my kids.

So, after the homework gets done, the stories are read, and the kids are tucked into their respective beds, I have my fit of melancholy. It seems I do fine most of the time as long as I am distracted. I focus on work or school or Brother's school or helping Jelly Bean's daycare decorate for Halloween. I think about dieting and exercising or some other navel gazing activity. I read book upon book to escape. But in the end, the wounds are still there. There might be a bandage over the surface, but they have not healed. They are still as raw and festering as they ever were. I just don't know how to give up this dream.