There is too much and too little going on. The house needs dusting and a wolf spider was hanging out in the middle of the dining room floor the other evening. There was a loud crashing screeching as we went to bed last night, followed by a firetruck siren, and construction noises all night. Someone had lost control taking the curve uphill, taking out a telephone pole, some fencing, and the corner of the house a block up from us.
Moon asks about how he can spend time with friends this winter? There is a ticket for Blue to home for a couple of weeks in December after a year away, but should he? The frustration that there are no good risk-free answers.
Things seem to take so much effort. There is a fear of moving, doing anything risky or unknown. I question everything. Trust very little. It's the election and/or pandemic fatigue, I'm sure. Does it help having a name for it? I don't know.
Just as I was about to post this, Moon came home, walked through the door, dropped his bag, and said, "I need you to stand up. I need a hug." Obliging as fast as I could, I wrapped my arms around his skinny over-six foot tall body. "I love you, Mom," as he held me tight back.
Driving home, he came upon a man sitting in the middle of the busy road. He and three other people got out of their cars to see if he needed help. He appeared homeless and said that he wanted to die. They all stayed with him, talking to him, diverting traffic, etc., until help arrived.
Moon is upset that he won't ever know what happened to the man, if he'll be ok?
"It's really hard," I said, "but we have to try to trust." Not knowing whether I believe it myself.
I think this one is about all the ways and places we might grow.
