red shoes

There's always a let down after Christmas. The house feels empty and stark without the decorations and the most amazing, most gigantic, most fabulous tree ever (it's now left for kindling at the curb). New toys have found new homes and the garbage men have earned a raise after tackling our trash pile. Everyone has gone back home. It's no longer acceptable to pour a glass of wine at 2 in the afternoon (or so they say). It's kind of sad. Even sadder this year I suppose. In the days and weeks following Mom's diagnosis I found myself wondering how I would go on every day when all I could think about was that I am going to lose her. And there still aren't many minutes that go by that I don't think about her, or it.   Then I started thinking about the how.  How do we 'celebrate' the holidays knowing that they will likely be her last? How do I balance utter sadness, devastation, and true fear with the magic and excitement and joy of three kids on Christma...

Have you ever lost your phone? Like actually lost it? It's mild panic. What if school calls me (which they never do, but they might)? What if I miss a text from someone who needs me urgently (which no one does)? What about that email with shipping confirmation for that stupid Hatchimal that everyone is dying for this Christmas (totally scored one the day Halloween on the shelf at Walmart... she hasn't even asked for it but she's getting it anyway)?  My Dad lost his phone this morning in an Uber car on the way to the airport in Birmingham. They were in Birmingham for what was a modicum of hope. I actually said last week 'I mean, all of the doctors have said the same things... so I can't imagine this one will be different.' But saying it and believing it are different. We had hope. We hoped that the people at UAB would have some magic unicorn rainbow pill she could take and we could be done with this nightmare. We had a little hope. That hope is gone. At best we...