expectations.

I took a walk with Belle yesterday morning after Griffin got on the bus. I brought my camera with me, thinking I would snap a few pictures of flowers and leaves and critters. The sun was shining and the temperature finally warm enough to venture to the bus stop in just a sweatshirt.  A good morning for a walk, indeed.

We headed out on our walk, camera in hand. There were flowers and birds and nests and warm sunshine. There were things to see and hear and smell.

As we descended the path heading out of the woods into the cranberry bogs, I was stopped cold in my tracks.

Everything was completely covered in a thick layer of ice. I'm not talking about a little bit of frost, either. I'm talking about blades of grass encased in ice as thick as your pinky finger. (The sprinklers for the bogs must have been running at night and the temperature dropped low enough to freeze everything.)

I was totally stunned. Totally. As in I was (literally) frozen in time. I couldn't walk or move... it was a bit surreal for me to be taking in when I had expected to be snapping pictures of warm sunny things.

We walked around, very slowly. Belle was totally confused about all the ice. She kept licking the ground, her paws, the grass... she was so curious.

As for me, I was really, seriously, stunned. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I snapped a ton of pictures, discovering shapes and textures and reflections of light. I was completely in awe of what I was seeing. Maybe you had to be there, in the moment with me, to really understand how truly captivating the whole scene was.

I was wearing flip flops (of course), and the ice was making my feet so numb that as I walked I kept stepping out of my shoes.

As we continued through the bogs from the shade into the sun, the ice was in various stages of melting. On the "sunny" side of the bogs, it looked as if it had merely rained a little. We saw frog eggs in the canals. We saw ducks and geese. Typical sights I was expecting to see when we first ventured out.

When we looped back around to the "shady" side, we were able to see different views of the landscape. More ice, more crunching beneath my feet, more glistening in the sun.

I couldn't take my eyes off it all.

While we were walking and taking inthe unexpected atmosphere, my mind was running a mile a minute. I was thinking about how crazy it was that my expectations for the walk had started out in a very basic way... enjoy a few minutes of sunshine and fresh air and spring-timey goodness with Belle before heading off to work. While the begining of the walk met those expectations in every way, once we turned one little corner everything changed so suddenly. Without warning. Without anticipation. Without asking me if the change would be alright.

Just like life.

I was overwhelmed.

It made me think. Really made me think.

Last October I would have told you that on April 16, 2008, I would be 6 months pregnant, walking with my best friend chatting about how much we were anticipating sharing the mothering experience together. I would have told you that I was tired and  anxious and emotional. I would have told you how sweetly my husband took care of me, how nervous and excited he was about our future.

Last October I would not have told you that on April 16, 2008, I would be walking alone with my sweet puppy girl. I would not have told you I had suffered an incredibly loss that still effects me every day, five months later. I would not have told you that I was torn between accepting what had been dealt to me and fighting the urge to still be angry about it all.

I know I'm not in control of certain things in my life, none of us can dictate fate.

I had spent the last several weeks in a state of fogginess, dealing with baby showers and baby talk and such, my emotions taking me for a wild ride. I was happy and excited and wanting to help, but at the same time I couldn't stop thinkning that I should also be the one preparing for my own celebration as well. While I was rubbing bellies and hanging out and having dinner and putting on a happy face when inside all I wanted to do was fall apart. It's hard to keep it together when you feel like the slightest wrong movement will cause the whole puzzle to fall apart.

I feel like the walk put things into perspective. At the start of the walk, everything was fine and dandy, life as usual. Suddenly, you are thrown a curve ball and the last thing you would ever expect is staring you in the face. You go through the motions, treading from what you know should be and what actually is. You open your eyes a little bit more, using all your senses to figure out the phenomenon that is happening around you. You realize you are helpless in changing what has been done. You move on. By the end of the walk, everything seemed normal again. Sunshine on my shoulders, but with something heavy still weighing on my heart.

A day has gone by since the walk. I really feel like there was a reason I took the route we did yesterday instead any of the others we could have traveled. I think I was supposed to see and feel all the things that I did. I think it has helped me to open my eyes and realize a lot about the way things work.

Life doesn't always go the way you think it will, but in the end you still wind up where you were meant to be.

Comments

[Jennifer]

Keep talking it out and working through the process. I am a firm believer that all things happen for a reason, whether they are joyful or sad. It is okay to feel the hurt and I am sure in time you will find the right place in your mind, heart and soul to hold onto those memories.
Hugs to you!

[~liz]

Life imitating art imitating life or in this case is it life imitating life imitating life? I'm sorry you are still feeling a bit disconnected and sad over your loss. Any words will NOT do just fine so I won't say them. They are so tinny and brassy and tinkling so meaningless in the grand scheme and when you are going through this momentous experience. I think you are right in your metaphor and the path. Life is very magical in that way. I've had some similar experiences where I found meaning in comparing normal so daily things. Like Mary Englebright says "Life is just so daily". Hugs, thoughts, prayers.... missprissy

[Sarah Kristiansen]

Just a "love ya, babe". Love the photos, love Belle, wish I had been there with my camera too, love the insight--so hard to put things into perspective...nice when perspective comes right to you. And crunches under your feet. Beautiful post.

[EJ]

Oh boy oh boy, you've done it again, I have had to go search for the tissues. Love the picture and wish I had been with you to see the bog it must have been awesome. Great to speak to you this evening (for me anyway). keep on talking, thinking and being yourself.

[Julie G]

My heart is heavy for you. It is very difficult to deal with situations beyond our control. When things happen, and you have no input to that decision, you just get angry.

That being said...YOU ARE ONE OF THE MOST ELOQUENT WRITERS OUT THERE!!!! You can and should write professionally. You word usuage and flowing style are beautiful. You have a love of words, and I hope it helps you with your grief. It is hard to read this and not want to hug you...so here... .

[glenni]

big hugs!!!!!

[steph (valleygirl)]

Oh, how I can relate. In different ways, but still relating none-the-less. Perspective like that is so amazing, but so devastating at the same time.

BIG hugs to you, and WOW at the photos! I am sure that was quite the sight to see!