I saw my brother last night. I saw him twice in my dreams. He was not a mere memory he was there, with all the love and strength that is him. In my first dream I was hiking along a river. Some place I'd never been, I stopped to rest and admire the water cascading through the boulders creating miniature waterfalls. And then he was there, standing beside me. I hugged him. I hugged him so tight, I wanted to hold onto him with all that I am. I could feel his hug, I physically felt his arms wrap around me, I could feel the strength in them. The hardness of his chest as I pressed my face into it. I held him so tight, I told him I would never let go. I wanted to hold him forever. But an unspoken truth loomed between. We both knew it was only brief, just a moment to connect and it would be gone too quickly. I feel that we spoke with our hearts, but the only verbal thing he said to me was "It's cold here." And shortly thereafter he was gone.
I saw him again later. In this dream I was taking Lilli to her first day of kindergarten. We were walking into the school, it was very crowded with students and their parents. But amidst all these people, I see my brother walking to me. I run up and hug him. I try again to hold onto him with all my might. I hold him so tight to me wishing I could keep him from slipping away. But we both know that can never be no matter how tightly we hold each other. Again we talk with out speaking, both of us more willing to accept that he can't stay, and again the only verbal thing he says is "It cold here." And shortly thereafter he is gone again.
My understanding of what he said is this, he was cold when he came to see me. Not that it was cold were he was.
You can call it a dream, or whatever you want. I don't really care, I know what I felt with my heart.
a quiet weekend
Mind numbingly insane from children overload, I sent the older troops out of town with daddy this last weekend. I positively entertained the thought of no children and made arrangements to relieve myself of the the littlest, too. However, after the big ones departed, my Lil and I snuggled on the couch and watched "Sky High". When she had fallen asleep, I got up and straightened up the house. Doing this with out any noise made me realize I didn't want to be all by myself. (Too lonely, too scary at night.) I canceled the arrangements, turned off the TV, put little one to bed, and sat at my machine to sew. Ahhhhhhh such peace.
Saturday we awoke by 8, had pancakes for breakfast, and went for a walk. Then she played outside and I did some more sewing. The interesting thing here is that my machine decided to crap out on me this weekend, and I felt no tensional frustration about it. I pulled out my first machine, took the back off, figured what's wrong, realized I couldn't fix it, but could still sew w/o making it worse, and slowly started to finish my shirt. (The gear cogs slip out of place so the teeth don't mesh and the needle won't go up and down)( I just have to keep pushing the clutch in and out until the cogs line up again)
There was no yelling or screaming this weekend, no tattle-telling, no fighting over toys or the guinea pig. I enjoyed it sooo much I will definitely have to do this at least once every three months. Not three years.
