I saw, in a Martha Stewart magazine (I know, that’s another whole new post already), a page with a picture of a seedling that had grown from the crack of a bean. Below that seedling was the word “Anticipation”.
Ah, yes, Spring is supposed to be anticipation (that was the March issue, I think). Waiting for the green to come back; planting and waiting for the tomatoes to realize themselves and for the butterflies and bees to come frolic in your vegetable plot.
But right now, anticipation for me is none. of. the. above. It is more like this:
ripping hair out; clawing at the heart; digging eyeballs out; scratching the armpits; hopping on one foot; clawing the walls; rolling eyeballs; opening and closing drawers, and doors very hard; staring at the calendar; counting the days; muttering; yelling at the day to end so the next can start so time can hustle faster; clenching fists; screaming visually; sighing; sighing again; making really unreasonable wishes; crying; sobbing; wailing; resisting retail therapy; pounding at heart, and repeating all the above.
No, nope. I am not good at waiting. Can you tell?
Hey Martha: Anticipate THIS.
I liked your definition better. Well, like is the wrong word, but I can relate more to yours.
found your blog via MB…wanted you to know that I stopped by. It is lovely
Just found your blog and really enjoyed reading it. I lost a child as well. I understand what you’re saying. I’m not very technology aware but reading what other people write, and writing my own, helps.
With love,
Alice
I think I’m with Tash, I’d like to tell Martha off!
I feel the way you do and it hurts, it hurts bad. I am so sorry that we are all going through this. Wishing you love and peace, Amy
Oh, man, I hated the trying. Hated. That was when my anger phase hit for the first time. Six months out. I feel for you.