Girl: When I was just a little girl I asked my mother what would I be? Would I be pretty? Would I be rich? Here's what she said to me.
Mom: Que cera cera! Whatever will be will be. The future's not ours to see, que cera cera! What will be, will be.
And so I am tonight in the middle of a "Que cera cera!" blogging mood. There is no specific title. My life has been arbitrary, meandering and threading in and out of mind sets and life situations. I have had days of great personal emotional challenges when I found myself wondering if the all too common "mental illness" in my dad's side of the family has finally found me. At that time I honestly wanted to hide away and, if it wouldn't cause too much of a commotion, die. The emptiness, lonliness, self-criticism and absolute sense of abject failure feel too heavy to bear. At those times I find it difficult to share myself with someone else. I recognize that it is an intensely self-absorbed time and I cannot bear the platitudes, solutions, off-handedness that folks often toss out at times like that in my life so I don't tell anyone. At times like that I don't trust anyone with myself. I feel as if my skin is raw and the stakes are so high. My saving grace is that I do continue with my social life and attendance at church and working and care taking of my loved ones. I continue though I feel as if I cannot move and that I am bleeding out from a severe wound. The best cure is an opportunity to help someone else who is in a situation that requires me to focus outwardly. So I had that going on for a time and an opportunity appeared and I took it and felt better.
Dramatically different is the time I spend with my grandson. It is magical time for me. Our relationship transcends tiredness, worries, dark thinking or anything other than joy. I am so grateful for this child in my life. I have three other grandchildren who are my heart and when I am around them I feel that same sense of joy. I cannot express it in words other than to say I have found nothing more powerful in my life excepting the love of God. They are all growing up. That is o.k. This Friday night a friend of mine and I went to a local fort to hear a local zydeco band play. Beautiful evening, an awesome friendship, folks in their lawn chairs with their children running and playing and then the zydeco music. The zydeco music begins to take hold of the listener. At first there is a moment of familiarity and satisfaction, then a few people start to dance on the grass, by the third song the children become overwhelmed by the impulse to dance and frolic in front of the stage. That is what got me last night. Two little girls who danced with their grandma and then with themselves. Joyous little girls who began sticking their tongues out at me and making faces when they realized I was photographing them. I could not resist getting closer to them. Next thing I knew I was dancing with them, spinning in circles, clapping, twirling, laughing and lost in the joy of child-like wonder. So I know my grandchildren are growing up and I cherish the years in between now and then and I also know that children will appear who will call out that child-like part of me from here until then.
Oh, the entire week or so has been, in the words of an elderly woman who use to say, "interesting" when new things or situations confounded her. Things have been "interesting".
And so, I will leave you, dear reader, with this:
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