You know how they say all emotions are either born of love or born of fear? By that reasoning, the anxiety I'm feeling this morning is fear-based, though I'm not really clear what it is I fear on this bright, balmy Saturday. Essentially nothing is different today than it was yesterday, though I miss my husband and son, who have gone ahead to Antigua where the funeral arrangements for my husband's father are proceeding. My husband and his brother sat with my son on a beach the first evening, the three of them sipping beers and watching the sunset and reminiscing about their father and grandfather. There were so many good stories and warm laughs. It made me happy to think of my son with his father and uncle, the three of them on a beach as night slipped in, toasting the one who gave them life and was their best example of what it means to be a good and loving man.
Someone I profiled for a magazine sent me flowers this week. She was really happy about the story. I opened my door one morning and there it was, a long box with a cobalt blue mason jar vase that I just love, and unopened buds inside. I've been photographing them daily because I am alone in the house, and it is unnaturally tidy and quiet, because the news of the world blaring from the TV was giving me a stomach ache so I turned it off and am burying my sorry heart in the sand and all the while the flowers on the table are unfolding with vibrant color and life, so we are having a conversation, at least until tomorrow when my girl arrives and the world will right itself and my emotions will be love-based, and we will fly to Antigua to join the men and the rest of the family under a cobalt blue beach sky.