Wrap Your Arms Around Me

So I've been gone for a while from the blogworld. I tried. I really tried.

But I had somewhat of a crisis--not like "the world came crashing down on me" crisis, but some very unnerving news. And until you get news like that, you just don't know how you'll ever react. It truly changes the way you go about your day...and it takes a lot to process.

And as I was processing (and I still am processing), my ability to express anything was completely dammed up. I tried--lots of times--to put it all into words. But I couldn't write or say or sing/sign/draw anything that could help me make sense of it all. I could just cry and stay awake at night. And so that's what I did. That's what I've been doing.

But I actually don't want to talk about that. I don't want to recount it or relive it at all.

What I do want to talk about is the fact that I've had some precious moments because of (or maybe in spite of) all this.

I am constantly amazed at the things and the people that console when Life decides to deliver a swift kick to the gut. It's never what you expect--it's never who you thought who provides comfort.

There are, of course, the usual suspects--your people--who show right up and bookend you so you don't fall all over the place. And I love them for that. I'm so lucky to have that.

But there are also the small gestures and the simple acts of kindness from some folks you wouldn't expect--and they have a bigger impact that one would ever imagine.

Who could anticipate that a walk and an ice cream sandwich would be so soothing? Or that that a kind note and a girly night out would help get you on more even ground?

When I reflect on the last two or so weeks, those are the things that jump out to me. It surprises me that they were just as comforting as the support a close friend can (and did) provide. Those are the things that you can grasp--they're what's tangible when your whole world is swimming around.

Bad things happen. And you go numb. But people reach out, and you can still feel it.

And that's what you remember. You don't remember the shock or the numb or the desperation.

You remember the ice cream sandwich and the way the sun felt on your face. And the sweetness of a good friend regularly checking in. You remember the ginger creme anglais and swooning over Jude Law.

I will always be thankful that there are simple things like dessert and sunshine to lift one's spirits. But I'm mostly thankful for the people who reach out and so kindly gift them.