Gratitude changes the *flavour* of grief... we still taste it, but it's sweetness comes out - rather than it's bitterness.
It was a strange week... a struggling sort - a tough kind.
Finally at night - lying next to my near-sleep husband, i whispered, "Do you think i would still be struggling so hard if it wasn't the first week of September?"
He let out his breath - in a long exhale...
"Why don't you just tell me these things instead of making me wonder why you're so sad?"
& it's because i hardly know them myself... they come upon me like night comes upon day - i'm not even aware of it - till the leaves turn - i see a calendar - i want another baby... or at least to enjoy the dream of another wee one.
& i curl my body up next to his broad back already taking it's deep rhythmic breaths - i trail his hairline with my fingertips and will myself to sleep - while grief and gratitude co-exist in this first week of September mist.