I was honored to be taken to breakfast by a young woman who was a classmate of Yotam, and is now a family friend. "After all," she said, "it's a belated Mother's Day breakfast; you are mother-ish..." The meal held me all day.
I found that despite my unsubscribing from so many sites yesterday, today's amount of email demanding a call or letter to a congressman or congresswoman/a signature/a comment/a donation was still overwhelming. What am I going to do?
A good part of the day was spent arranging the logistics of my trip back East to Isabella Freedman/Elat Chayyim for Shavuot. My energy is different this year than in the past two years, and I am looking forward to teaching something new, or something not-new in a new way. Flights are more bizarre (midnight arrivals, etc.,) just when I am needing more regular sleep. Still, I am looking forward to this, and glad that I still have the time until then to deepen preparation.
By late afternoon, I was having "shpilkes in tuchis", so did an errand at McGuckin's, picked up a few groceries, and walked around Viele Lake. I did not have a meltdown like yesterday; today I murmured a running commentary, as if I were talking to my beloved long-distance...
Very long. Distance.
"There is the goose family with the eight new goslings, and they're all still alive."
"There is the tiny yappy dog taking his person on a brisk walk."
"There is a doe on the side of the hill, munching berries."
"A fish just jumped."
"I think the woman rearranging things in her car in the parking lot may be living in it."
I hear no response.
But sometimes I think I feel the light touch of a presence.
Then I worry that I am holding him back from a more expanded state.
Then I think: once free of a physical body, couldn't a marvelous mental multitasker like my beloved be in more than one place at a time?
This goes in the list of questions to bring with me to the Next World.