I’m at the library, supposedly working on my book. My mind is scattered, though, spread wide across time and people and circumstance.

My uncle died this week. I’m traveling to the funeral Thursday. His family relationships were strained, so his funeral will be a ritual I can’t really imagine (though I’m glad for the chance to be present for). I feel nervous about it. I feel nervous, too, about being away from Elijah for more than a day.

There are other things, too, though—friends working through physical and relationship challenges of their own, a surrogate brother leaving the country indefinitely, a book I’m almost done writing, but that’s challenging me to soul-search, to admit my feelings of inadequacy around writing a climax I haven’t personally lived, and then go ahead and write it anyway.

All of it’s swirling around inside, mirroring the wind and rain that have howled outside all week. I care so much about the people involved in each of these swirls. I care so much I want to howl, too. If I had a magic wand, I’d make everyone’s hearts hurt a lot less.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 28th, 2006 at 5:32 pm and is filed under Mindfulness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.