A fat fish

My niece wrote a poem for school. My sister-in-law sent it to me and it made me cry. In that one short poem she demonstrated that she is a writing force to be reckoned with. She is fierce. She set the mood, forged memorable characters, elicited fond memories from her audience, and took us from contented happiness to unforeseen sadness. She did all of this in twelve lines. Oh, and I should mention, she’s eleven. I am stunned.

It also made me think about my own writing. Lately, this blog has been it, the sole outlet for my creativity and thoughts. I have always processed my feelings by writing. Even as a kid. However, the complicated and challenging events of the past few months have proven to be a bit more than I can handle, even in writing. Instead, I’ve focused solely on the good. The happy. I’ve been writing this blog with a decidedly positive spin so that I can convince myself that the things that happened don’t matter so much. Reading my niece’s poem was a bit of a reality check. Part of the reason I’m so stuck right now, bogged down and dragging, is because I’m not adequately venting my feelings. Even in my own head. Or with my own pen.

Don’t worry, folks, I have no intention of saddling you with the events permanently seared into my soul. I am not going to write about them in my blog. At least, not yet. But, I do need to rip off the bandages and begin to write about them for myself. I can’t imagine that I will be able to move forward until I do. And, I know I won’t be able to work on any of my other writing projects until I’m able to write about sadness and despair again without struggling for each breath. It’s time for me to deal with what happened. Until now I’ve just been carrying it along with me as I lead Mr. C, one step at a time, away from the inferno raging behind us. He’s recovering. He’s healing. Now, it’s my turn.

Fortunately, the weather is helping. After many gray, rainy days in a row, we’ve had two sunny ones thrown into the mix. At this point, the heat of summer is merely a fond memory, but the sky is so blue that it reminds me of a day we spent at the beach this summer.

We ventured up to Hansville, a short thirty-minute drive from our house to Point No Point. The oldest lighthouse on Puget Sound is there and you can rent the keeper’s quarters. This place is definitely calling my name for a future weekend of relaxation. It’s often windy and it would be a great place to fly a kite. Not to mention the nature trails known for their bird watching possibilities. I think more than anything I’d like to plop my beach chair down in the sand and simply watch the birds, marine animals and sailboats pass by for an entire day.

While I soaked up some much needed Vitamin D, Mr. C dragged huge pieces of driftwood across the sand and into the shallows to build a small dam. The beach has an unusual view of Seattle and Mt. Rainier. Because of the perspective, the skyscrapers of the city look like miniature toys positioned in front of a backdrop of a massive, looming volcano.

During our couple of hours on the beach we saw countless birds diving into the waters in search of a meal. Every once in a while we’d see one surface with a fish squirming to escape from its beak as it rose back into the blue. A good day for the bird, not such a good day for the fish.

In the end I have no doubt that I’ll be able to process everything that’s happened and find my normal balance once more. I’m going to find a way to set down my burden and leave it in the past, a mere memory. And, when I do, you’d better believe I’m going to rise up and away from the dark waters, where I can’t see my feet, with a fat fish to show for my efforts.