A Short Walk to May

Many days have passed since I logged any thoughts on this blog. Unrecorded thoughts drift around in the universe where they go I don't know. Maybe I don't care. 

Ten years ago tonight Aaron flew home from Bend, OR. We picked him up at the airport, brought him to the house. He started to unpack and then walked across the street to see his brother Patrick who was watching the neighbor boys. It was dark, maybe 7:00 PM. I don't know what Patrick's reaction was, although he knew Aaron was coming home. I recall hearing the boys remark about how big Aaron was. He looked big to me too.Broad shoulders, tall. healthy.

Ten years ago our goal was to stay in the moment. Not project. Not worry. Be grateful Aaron was home. Take it one day at a time. A year and two months had passed. Aaron was Aaron. Content, a little nervous, humble, and alive. 

I guess this is the official start of the count down to ten years. This is being written on the same desk top that the first posts were recorded almost ten years ago. The tear and snot stained wood reminds me of how hard I cried for so long. I don't like to go to this place of choking grief. The choice is not mine. How familiar the tension in my head, the strain in my gut, clench in my jaw.I thought Aaron was home forever but forever was less than four months. It's a short walk to May from here.

(The quilt was made by Liz Kritter. Old Tshirts of Charlie's. One is an Aaron J. Meyer Foundation T shirt)