Black Umbrellas in June

It’s been an overwhelming week of both literal and metaphorical births and marriages and deaths. There’s so much mourning and celebration to be done. Where should I start? Before I can outstretch my arms and laugh, I fall on my knees to cry, but moments before I hit the dirt, something lifts me up and forces me to smile.

So I can’t really describe what it is that I’m seeing or feeling right now. It’s a smash of seasons–like I’m on the beach with an umbrella drinking hot tea to soothe my allergies.

(I tried to paint a nonsensical picture, but it came out just to be a fobby mom.)

It’s a flurry of everything too fast. But one thing I can say is that I feel more alive than ever. Life on crack is so much better than no life at all.