I guess we are supposed to be getting back to normal now. Today is sort of the first day for that. Not really, in the sense that we are still having some meetings to go over the events of the last few weeks and figure out how to improve things. Perhaps when these meetings are over, we will get back to normal.
It is strange to be in the house alone. Quietness reigns. And I stand at my stove and have to think how to cook again. Where to start? My house had been taken over by others. Cupboards are a mess. Things bought and put in odd locations. I open the fridge and stare at leftovers that I have no idea where they came from. Thankful for the army of volunteers who ran my house, but now slightly overwhelmed at the confusion. My brain is too tired to figure it out, and I simply close the cupboard doors again. Maybe I'll get back to normal tomorrow.
We went for a walk this evening as a family. Ignored the phone when it rang. Tired of people. Tired of the hugs, the looks, the sympathy. Thankful for them. And tired of them. Wanting to just walk and nod at people we pass without having to stop and tell the story again. And yet again. It was nice to walk in the evening.
Now we face another night. I hope this night my brain will let me sleep. It still works in overdrive at night. Dreams of emergencies and emotions fill my head when I close my eyes, and I wake startled. My heart pounds and my hands sweat. I shake my head and tell myself it was only a dream, but the emotions linger. I close my eyes again, only to repeat the process. I reach for my husband and wrap my arms around him to reassure myself that he is here. He grunts and reaches for my arms and pull them tight. I know he is also not sleeping well.
I watch my kids. Wondering what is normal. Is it good that they have begun to fight and pick on each other again. Do I give thanks for this or do I scold them again... or both? I'm too tired to scold them, but I have to, so I pull out enough energy to do that. Angry at them for disturbing my thoughts which only run circles over and over the same themes. Thankful that they have stopped staring blankly into space and are busy jumping into puddles again. Scolding them for soaking their shoes. Where are their boots? I don't know. My brain can not pull up the memory of where I store spring rain gear.
I want to get back to normal. I am working on it. I just don't know where I left normal. I think I left it one night before that phone call.... and I can't find it again. I'm hoping I'll find it here behind one of these cupboard doors that open to a confusing array of things that I did not put there.
It's hard work getting back to normal. I'm beginning to wonder that when I do finally find my normal, it will be changed. I will be changed. Will we recognize each other?