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Thoughts over the weekend:

* There are so many beautiful things all around me. I am lucky.
* Whatever happens to one of us, happens to all of us.

So much for the profound revelations. Heh!

I was waking up during the night, finding myself stressed about work because not only is it demanding more of my time (my precious time!) but my colleague and I had been unable to get things operating as they need to in order for me to take over for her while she’s away on holidays for a month. Over the weekend I’d been searching online for help with the new computer program, and telling myself “All is well. Everything is resolving itself harmoniously.” And so it appears, as my colleague emailed me on Saturday with the message that she thinks she’s worked out the kinks. I’ll find out when I get onto the phone with her in an hour or so.

Sunday will mark seven years since Mom died. I didn’t get around to submitting a poem in memoriam to the local paper, as I’ve done each anniversary till now. Even after this much time, choosing a memoriam poem makes me cry. Still seems impossible that I’ve lived seven years beyond her. Unreal somehow; not right; something “off.”

Dad on the phone tells me he is lonely and missing his girlfriend; they are on speaking terms but are no longer a couple, as they found themselves irritated with each other far too often. He tries to explain what went wrong but can’t seem to put his finger on it. “She gets upset and won’t let anything go” and “She watches those shows like Survivor and American Idol.” I can almost hear him shaking his head, and his scorn of her (in his opinion) poor taste, and can well imagine why she gets upset with him sometimes. Who needs it? I see clearly where the pattern of feeling judged and scorned by the men in my life began.

One afternoon I walked to Beau’s parents’ place a mile down the road and stopped in for a quick visit. I sang happy birthday to his mom and, though I’ve noted the sameness of their build and their gait before, for the first time I saw a glimpse of Beau’s face in his dad’s, which I find quite unappealing. It gave me a chill: Will this be Beau someday? There are too many similarities between them, including some of their attitudes.

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