Last week the nights were hot. Last week none of my boys slept well. Last week our bed was full, there was lots of tossing and turning and sleeplessness. Last week I inhabited a space between awake and asleep most nights. Last week was hazy, there are vague memories of vivid dreams: a friend I haven’t seen for a while crowned Queen of Australia wearing a bikini and throwing a beach ball at the Sochi winter Olympic games.
Last week, I celebrated seventeen years with my man. Last week, I woke from one of those hot crowded nights and saw beautiful yellow flowers on my dresser. Last week, on our anniversary we went to the hospital to debrief baby Ace’s birth with the Medical Director of Obstetrics. Last week, walking to the appointment on a baking hot day I was immersed in an eerily quiet bubble, time slowed down and small details of the day were flashing into my consciousness’ despite being acutely aware that it was business as usual in the world around me. Last week, I developed a clearer understanding of the events surrounding baby Ace’s birth.
This week, time continues on.