holidays, sushi, and alchemy

it's normal life rhythms interrupted by parties and dinners and out-of-town family and1/2 days and unusual amounts of presents and chocolate. it's balancing my kids' unadulterated joy at home with a sadness at work so sharp it makes me cringe. it's blurry, strangely cozy...hollow and full at the same time.

it's a whole family piled on their mom's bed watching Gerald Ford coverage and eating chocolates

it's that same mom telling me she knows it's her last christmas

it's her daughters sobbing in the hallway saying they're not ready

it's her husband asking me tough questions

it's giving honesty that sounds vulgur with carols playing in the background

it's that look...i know that look...the jaw tightening, the tears collecting...he loves and hates me for being the messenger

it's time to go home...to shift gears...to family...to fortune...to happy.
read a clever, funny book on the train home...and hope it's enough

home brings warmth...in people and food

it's a full table, amazing food, and wine glasses that seem to fill themselves

it's conversation, stories, and heads thrown back in laughter

it's a pack of feral cousins, reunited for the holidays, that you want to simultaneously hug and sedate

it's hot, fragrant vietnamese soup guaranteed by the chef to have restorative powers...we'll see

resume reading clever book in the morning on the train
listen to music
write a little
brace myself a little

it's finding out first thing that she died overnight

it's the kick in the gut, the tears, the head in hands

it's the aching for her family, despite the relief for her


it's another train ride home. no book. no music. lots of staring.


it's coming home to another perfect gathering of conversation, food, and kids

happy...crying...celebrating...mourning - all with a distinct lack of transition time between.
it feels like emotional sushi...raw, vividly colored, artfully displayed little packages of emotion - interesting and exciting to take in, but with the potential to make me sick overnight.

i came across these words this week from Pearl Buck (who only wishes she could've coined the term 'emotional sushi'), and i was sure she was speaking to me...

"there is an alchemy in sorrow. it can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness."

peace and happiness to you in 2007