My favorite genre of movies are post-apocalyptic thrillers. People in dire circumstances, making life or death decisions. Volcanoes erupting in LA, zombies in Walking Dead. It's all fair game.
With these dark gray days and early sunsets, it feels quite like my own apocalyptic horror show. It's not that I can't find reasons to laugh. Because I can. And I do. But nothing feels quite real.
I made myself go for a haircut yesterday. I wanted to do it, but it's hard to put effort into looking nice. I did a walk-in appointment at my salon and ended up with a perfectly nice cut from a young stylist.. whose name is Sarah. I almost choked when she introduced herself. It's not like it's an uncommon name, but one of the reasons why I had put off the cut was the awkward chitchat that accompanies the visit. And the day before Christmas, who doesn't make small talk about families and kids? So I bit my lip and kept it light. I avoided talking about my Sarah. And instead asked her about her own life.
I survived the visit. And my hair looks fine. But I had my own zombie-inspired nightmare last night. My conscience was unsettled.
The end was most remarkable; a dark man with a sickle carrying a car seat, saying, "You forgot her."
Egads. I love you so much. And joe and Jonah and Rachel and Sarah. It is ok to feel this pain. Your dreams help you process your worries and fears. It will not always be this way although it may feel so. She will always be in our hearts and minds. She will inspire love and kindness and understanding - she already has. Allow yourself to break and fall when you must. We will pick you up. We will hold you while you mend.
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