Every now and then I see a posting on blogs that I read regularly where the topic is basically, “I want to be writing but I have no idea what to write about.” Those entries always make me smile.
That is, until I experienced my own bout of it.
Never having been through this before, I have no idea what to do to break the streak. All I can think to do it just write a post full of randomness. I’m sure it’s not going to be enlightening or riviteing – for either you or me, frankly – but maybe just the act of writing will get my juices flowing again. So here goes nothing.
MOMD is a Newfoundlander. His parents mailing address is on “The Rock”, in a small town called Fox Trap, on the outskirts of St John’s. Like so many Newfoundlanders, his parents are working in Fort Mc
MoneyMurray in the oil sands. They work 2 weeks on, 2 weeks off and fly home for their 2 weeks off. It works for them, because they are on the same rotation and so spend the majority of their 2 weeks off together.
Last night, MOMD took a call from his Dad’s cell phone. Turns out that while he should have been happily arriving at his lovely home with his loving wife sometime after supper, he was in fact trapped in a hotel in Toronto. His flight left Alberta on schedule, made a stop in Red Deer, Newfoundland and was on it’s way to St John’s when the fog rolled in. The plane was not cleared to land. And so, instead of going to either of the other 2 airports on the island, or any of the airports in the Maritime provinces, he was re-routed to Toronto.
We talked to him this morning and he has been scheduled to get on a 10:00 flight this morning, flying to Halifax, then to Gander, and then to St John’s. Needless to say, he is not at all happy given that he paid for a direct flight. There is a 9:00 flight that he’s trying to make it on which is a direct, non-stop to St John’s.
What gives with Air Canada, huh? The worst part though is that by the time he actually makes it home, my Mother-in-Law will be halfway through her first week of her 2 week break.
My darling daughter will be delivered in just 29 days today. Unless – as many have pointed out – she decides to make an early entrance. Which she may, and once I make it to 35 weeks (that’s Saturday, if you’re keeping track), I will happily greet her before then. I don’t have words to describe my excitement about meeting her. I’ve been talking to her, interacting with her and her spirit for some time now, and I simply cannot wait to see her, hold her, kiss her… and dress her!!
Every morning, Sam (my almost 4 year old) asks me, “Mommy, what did you dream about?” Usually my answer is “I don’t remember, honey.” Because I really have a hard time hanging on to my dreams once I’m awake. This morning though… this morning I remembered. I dreamed of her face. Not her infant face – I think she was 2 or 3 years old. And in my dream, I clearly saw her dark hair – like mine, which neither of our sons have – and her eyes. I saw her beautiful, smiling, compassionate sparkling eyes… I was entranced. I could have stayed in that dream for 8 more hours, which is really a relief. Because (as I wrote about here) the eyes I saw are my brother’s eyes. They are also my Mom’s eyes, and her Mom’s eyes; a legacy of the Kelly-Keenan family. As it turns out, I’m really okay with her having his (really their) eyes. In fact, I feel giddy and strangely honoured that she will carry on that legacy of her Irish roots.
A friend of mine returned to work this Monday after the end of her 12-month maternity leave. I wanted to get together with her last week, for one last hurrah, but the craziness took hold and it was impossible. She works shift work at Mount Sinai and I don’t know when we will have a chance to see each other again. This makes my heart a little sad. I know that when things settle down a bit, I can call her and figure out scheduling; I just wish I had called her last week is all.
Life is moving forward. I am not in control of many of it’s events; none of us are. We are in the “flow of life,” as I like to call it. We can get a paddle and speed up the journey, racing all the way to the end; we can watch behind us and spend all of our time pining for what has passed; or we can sit on the bench with a delicious, refreshing drink, enjoying each moment as they happen.
Yes, let’s go.