I lie still in bed worn down after another day of rebuilding my family. And redefining me. Our dynasty has crumbled and the foundation is cracked. Most days I spend in the rubble trying to figure out what of the old household is still usable and what is not. Some moments are more labour intensive than others. This is one of those days. The sheer exhaustion of each choice and decision made washes over me. The desire to be in a place where I never have to choose anything again beckons.
Ironically I reach for the pillow on Colin’s side of the bed and breathe deep as I embrace it. Though I use some restraint as I am a little scared to smell all the scent out of it. I should probably be more fearful of the fact that it hasn’t been washed in a year and a half, but it is the only thing left that has his aroma. So I am careful to ration my time with it and make sure I don’t wet it with tears too often.
And this is just one of the things around our residence that is out of place yet still at home. Colin’s deodorant in the medicine cabinet. Madeline’s running shoes at the back door. The recorded Calgary Flames game on my PVR. Her bottle brush by the kitchen sink. His Bible next to the seat by the fire.
And I’ve begun to ask myself, “When is it time to put these things away?” Will I be able to recognize it on my own or will I need prompting? How do these things fit into our future? I also wonder if this is good and healthy or maybe it is just stalling my progress through this minefield. Do you just wake up one morning and decide that today is the day to wash your bedding?
It is hard for me to understand how things change between those two moments. Does something have to go from treasure to trash? Could there be a middle ground and then what would that even look like?
Normally I am resistant to change, but there grows this restlessness in my heart. All this monotonous work at ground zero has grown tiresome. And I’m caught between wanting to burn everything to the ground and start again, or run away to a place where nothing is familiar. I’m certain that neither extreme would be a permanent or wise solution so I’m left sifting through all the broken things.
I still lie waiting for a clearer picture or peace to make a move.
For now the pillowcase stays dirty.