Structure has returned to my life, which means that I am blissfully suspended in a state of satisfaction. I’m like the mosquito happily sinking in the tree sap which is carmelizing into amber. Me and the school year are reunited and it feels so good. I don’t care if I’m stuck in the sap. If this is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
Everyone started school this week. The seventh grader has realized that he will survive middle school. Jack and Charlie by a stroke of grace attend different schools which are connected by a breezeway. Since they go to essentially the same location, they get to ride the same special needs bus, making my life a complete dreamboat! They are out the door at the same time and return at once together at four o’clock. God loves me. All is well.
In the seven hours between the bus stopping at our door, Truman and I are taking walks again. I’ve returned to cooking. We eat real food. There is time to clean up the after effects of the Code Brown. I can schedule doctor appointments and chat with therapists on the phone without a screaming chorus of banshees following me around.
I’m still reading about those blasted time-traveling Frasers in Scotland and the pre-Revolutionary War colonies. The books are long and they have their claws in me. I’m okay with that.
The school year’s return makes my efforts more purposeful. Summer’s survival mode fades into organization. It’s possible to do more than survive when things like this happen. It’s possible to thrive.