It had the usual pre-holiday excitement and decorations and costume planning. On Halloween itself, I couldn’t seem to wipe a smile off my face to save my life. It was all in the way the town comes together. It’s the political messages carved on pumpkins – subtle but there. It’s the way Des walked in his velociraptor costume. I had that existential feeling I know and loathe so well. Instead of enjoying the now, I couldn’t help but think about how fast he’s growing. When he puts his arms around me every night at bedtime and says that he loves me forever and ever and ever, I know that he always will but it won’t always be the same. The dinosaur waddle will give way to something else, the way the two-year-old prance has left us permanently. I still see snippets of it in the cobwebs of memories. Faded, yes, but never really gone. Different. Growing.
It all came to somewhat of a crashing halt the week of Halloween. For one, I was underwater with work. I mean really in the weeds – and almost drowning. So much opportunity and learning. For another, Astro got a viral infection and healed, but he seems to have a congenital front leg problem that we thought he’d grow out of – and it’s only gotten worse. So off to an orthopedic surgeon this morning, and then I’m straight to Boston for an intense work event. Sometimes it’s hard to breathe.
Into the dark months and into the dark. Sometimes, often, it’s nearly impossible to make sense of this world. My kids – still young and innocent enough – to dream and breathe and believe and dinosaur waddle. It’s changing, though. Scarlet finished Harry Potter book 6, and that’s a whole other loss of innocence. The news is on and blaring and I don’t know how they aren’t hearing about this world. With demons crawling out of the darkest depths of our imagination. No, though. I never imagined this. We never imagined this. And if you did, and you still think it’s ok and progressing, there’s something you’re not admitting or seeing or dreaming and breathing and believing and dinosaur waddling. And that describes me too today.
And that is where the gift lies. That we can’t imagine this. That we never could. How could we possibly fathom this? We’re made of better and stronger stuff. It’s the fire and the magic and the dreaming and breathing and believing and dinosaur waddling. It’s in the darkness being greater than our imaginations, because our imaginations are made of cotton candy and bridges and growth. Progress and kindness and tolerance. Our imaginations are made to soar, and to know that you’re ONLY comfortable enough in your own skin, your own heart, your own dinosaur waddle, your own religion, your own race, your own identity – ONLY if you want the same for all. If you can understand that another person’s rights don’t actually take away your own, and if you learn to fight and stand and think and dream and believe. It never pays to show your own pain and emptiness by hurting others or keeping and VOTING them down. Lift others up as you truly want and need to be lifted.
Into the dark months we go, and into the darkness – where your only choice is to find light. And that is why I not-so-secretly love this time of year. There’s nowhere to look but up and ahead and right in front of your face – in dazzling lights and promise. In hope and pain and choices. We have to make important choices right now, while we still can make choices.
This is me linking up, as one of my favorite things to do, with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s topic is “As the Days Grow Darker..” and there’s still time to write yours. Come link up with your spin: HERE. I don’t know about you but I TOTALLY meant to write about something else, and then this post sort of hiccuped onto my screen and I just ran with it.