Straws

I always have trouble trying to say anything in print. Who will read it? Who cares? Will I want to read it later? Do I want anyone to know this, anyway?

So, I just finished letting my nine-year-old sister (I'll call her Rose) cry on my shoulder -- something triggered a memory about our sister (aka Bluebird, here) who died a few years ago. It still amazes me how incredibly deeply that event affected my younger sisters; they weren't very old when all of that happened.

Bluebird was sick for two years, and my mother did much of her nursing at home. We had a lot of support from church, family, and friends; still, what do you say in that kind of a situation? I've been through it, and I still don't know. You just live a day at a time, and suddenly you look back, and what do you know, time has passed.

I feel much more mature than my last post already, ha, ha. I'm in a much better mood since getting all that off my shoulders. I still have a lot of things up in the air, but I'm not completely lost.

You know about the straw that broke the camel's back? Well, I just keep getting straw after straw laid on me, and I start to bend.

I've also been studying Ecclesiates, so that doesn't help. We've only read the first two chapters, and they're all doom and gloom and 'all is vanity.' I think the next part will be better -- we get to read the part about 'there is a time for everything.

My sisters and one of my brothers have soccer this year, so they have to take showers practically every night. Rose, the same one who was just in tears, likes to sing in the shower. We were sitting down to our staggered evening meal, and suddenly loud, yet muffled, moans started to flow from the bathroom. My mother is aware of the singing habit, so she wasn't immediately alarmed. She sent another sister, Starry-eyes, off to check. We waited, listening for any sounds. There was a pause, then more seeming sobbing. My mother was pretty sure that something was wrong by this time, but then Starry-eyes returned and told us that Rose was standing in the shower, huddled against the still-cold water, head down, singing the 'Cheeseburger Song' from VeggieTales.

I can see you'll need a map to navigate the family:

My Father, 'the Engineer';
My Mother, 'Wildflower';
Me, 'Semi-colon,' the oldest;
Brother 'Tan Man,' just off to college;
Sister 'Bluebird,' forever 13 and 11 months old;
Sister 'Starry-eyes' (I know she'll hate that old nickname);
Brother -- Hmm, I'll say 'Buddy.' It fits.
Sister 'Pixie' (but don't tell her)
Sister 'Rose' (that's who she always wants to be while playing)

Got that? Me neither. I'll probably have to refer back to keep the names straight.

So, here I am up late. I think I'll get up and go running tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'll be better than my atrocious 10-minute-mile this morning. Don't laugh -- I'm really not a competitive/sports person.

I finally finished my latest Ngaio Marsh mystery -- I think I'm catching on to her themes. I guessed the correct criminal in this one, 'Death and the Dancing Footman'; I was way off in the last one, 'A Wreath for Riviera.' Can't win 'em all. I think I'll start a running book commentary. That is, if I can stop reading long enough to actually write something.

So, more tomorrow. Funny, my mother always wanted me to keep a journal...