a broken arm, a rainbow and moving closer to the sun

alternatively titled,
"way too damn long post."

my mind has been circling,

absolutely circling

lately.

it is funny how things mentioned so casually, can become loud-blaring-obnoxiously looping-announcer-bulletins alerts bouncing against the walls inside of your mind.

so, here is the deal, I am going to get this out of my head.

because I can't take it on the inside anymore.

and maybe if these thoughts are out,

then something might change,

something might be made right.

*warning*

we are diving down right now

haunted

I find myself inextricably haunted

by two little faces

by two little voices

by two little people.

real, alive, breathing, running, walking-around laughing people.

"the girls"

the sibling set that I actually allowed myself to believe was "meant to be."

crazy, stupid, irrational filoli!

filoli who knows better!

stupid!

so, I felt strong, we made the right decision,

battling with the agency,

and the social workers,

and the therapists,

and the social workers - again

following our first meeting of the girls,

so that their needs - not mine - were met

was the "right thing" to do.

I felt that way.

and when we sat in another meeting,

and my husband was explaining our frustration

about how this 10 month process blew up in a ridiculous

and disappointing way,

he said,

"I feel like I just watched you break my wife's arm - in front of me."

I felt embarrassed

because

a) I don't like to think of myself as so fragile,

b) I feel like I am strong enough to handle the ubiquitous anything,

c) I want to believe everything always seems to work out for the best - right?,

d) I felt chained to that "walking wounded" image;

e) I want to believe that "no one on the corner has swagga like us;" and

perhaps, most importantly,

f) I did not want to believe my arm was metaphorically broken.


from time to time, I allowed or indulged (depending on how you look at it) to engage in flights from reality and think that maybe this placement could still maybe, possibly, work out. because evidently I am a crazy person. please see exhibit A for further evidence of said craziness.

the challenge is when someone tells you

"you are finally the family according to the county"

uh, you believe them.

and you get committed.

at least I do,

and when you see pictures,

and have stories,

and people describe the oldest as a mini-filoli,

you get excited,

you get hopeful....

you find yourself falling in love.

you do silly stupid things

(er, like start a outlining a post idea to announce your new branches).

and when you meet these 2 amazing hearts,

with all of that love in your every fiber,

and you shockingly realize that moving them from their foster home,

would be the worst possible thing in the entire world to do to these 2 people...

you feel a deep and ever expanding sense of loss,

that to this day feels like someone is physically prying open my chest

and a lump swells in my throat

and my eyes start to burn.

yet, I remind you that I take offense to the comment that my arm was broken.

so, I was pretty shocked to be driving alone in my car one day and flash on a conversation with the mini-filoli (who I agree is and was and will ever be a mini-filoli) and laughing and remembering, then the chest-opening situation happens to me, then the hot tears, then this crashing painful realization -

that my arm was broken.

and maybe the hand I write with...

so I return home and foolishly throw myself on the couch in a dramatic fashion in front of my ever-loving husband and pronounce in a typical nonsequitor and indulgent fashion,

"my arm was broken!"

then as I was deciding what trendy new color I should cast this literary broken arm in, I got the call that the foster family has finally realized that they need to move forward with adoption.

[deep, long, sigh and stop-the-earth-from-spinning-for-a-moment sense of relief]

see, things do work out...so I must not have this broken arm thing?

because, how in the world, when you see all around you, on a daily basis how things amazingly, quietly, deliberately, spiritually and profoundly do indeed work out could you even fool yourself or attempt to trick yourself that this rainbow and promise does not exist for you too...

so, why do I now feel like I still have the broken arm?




and then I start to do the wrong thing.

I start to feel exhausted, like all of this has now finally become too much, just too much.

but maybe it just too much on the inside

and maybe all of these feelings only asks that

"we must be heard"

maybe for now that is my rainbow.

that is my promise.

every day I recall that someone said,

from this day on,

we are moving closer to the sun.

every day,

closer to the sun.

and I wonder what this trajectory means for me.