A New Normal

The other day, through tears, I said to my husband, "I just miss feeling normal." He said: "There's going to be a new normal. Life will never be the same again, just like after we lost our first baby. But there will be a new normal."

Isn't he so right about that? 

Sometimes, things happen in our lives that change everything. They change the way you feel about yourself, and the way you see your life. Game-changers, I guess. At first you are ripped apart, and floating in darkness. You feel alone in your grief. You start to believe that this is all you will ever feel. Then days pass, and despite what people say, the pain doesn't lessen...but it does becomes familiar. You learn to live with it. 

The other day I realized that, from now on, whenever I meet someone new, and they ask about my parents, I will have to say, "My Dad lives in Germany, and my Mom died." This is now a piece of my story, and it's a part I cannot change. 

Rafael asks a lot about death. It has become a permanent part of the landscape of his childhood. This is another thing I cannot change. 

It means so much more than anything I can write here. The loss of my mother, the her-not-being-here, the no-more-letters-or-emails, the fact that her voice is only something I hear in my head. It has so much more weight than I can explain. It is woven throughout my days and nights. I think about it all the time. 

This lump in my throat, and the hot tears that spill. They are a part of my new normal. This missing. The terrible moment when I wake in the morning and remember that she is gone. Her final hours in the hospital, swollen, black and blue...and then seeing her lifeless, her body growing cold. It plays like a film in my mind every day. 

All a part of my new normal.

It's not that there wasn't beauty to be found in her death. Surrounded by loved ones! How many are so fortunate?

And it's not that there isn't beauty in my life. Just look at these photos. So much beauty indeed. 

But for now, it feels somehow separate from me. I laugh and smile, I play with my silly boy, and revel in his perfect face. I smooth his hair, put my face to his head and breath in his scent. I cook good meals, meet good friends. Talk about all the hundreds of things there are to talk about. 

But always, just beneath the surface, like a fine, lavender fog-colored layer that only I can see, right there, like a layer of second skin...there is that sadness. Always that sadness.

So the new normal is still settling in. I am still learning what it all means. 

xoxoxoxo

A Perfect Autumn Walk

Hope you are all having a beautiful Autumn.

Thank you all so much for your kind words regarding the loss of my mother.

xoxoxo Dawn

Questions

Although there is no snow, everything is gilded with ice. The frozen ground crunches under foot and the tree tops are frosted white.

I took my camera on a walk along my favorite new forest path, which leads to a grassy open area, all the shades of camel, sand, chestnut, and pale wheat. It is so beautiful there right now. Tranquil, completely silent except for the chirping of birds who swoop from branch to blackberry cane. The mist is so heavy that it is hard to tell where the trees end and the sky begins. I couldn't stop taking photographs.

I wanted to tell you about the combination of things which have made daily living in it's current state a bit difficult: since winter is here, and it is bitterly cold, Rafael doesn't want to stay in the forest very long in the mornings. He also has stopped taking naps at midday. And he also has found it hard lately to play on his own, which he used to do for long periods of time. This means that we have a ton of time indoors where he is dissatisfied. His friends are all in daycare or kindergarten, and he is starting to get antsy and bored with me as a play mate. I am really beginning to realize how unnatural it is for a child and a mother to be alone for such long periods of time. I don't think it is good for him, or for me. He needs the company of other children. And I need to talk about something other than firemen, and need to do something other than desperately try to come up with something to keep my son busy and happy. 

My husband's work year has come to a close and it has been refreshing to have more time for myself while he goes on little day trips to the zoo or museums with Rafael. While they strengthen their bond, I am quieting down and getting to know myself as a whole person, aside from my role as a mother. These quiet hours to myself, either at home or in the woods, give me the possibility to reflect on what I want. What is working in my life, and what could use improvement. Which areas need a little fixing, and which areas need a big renovation.

Questions I am asking myself lately: When this new year begins, what do I want to change about our daily rhythm? Should Rafael spend more time with other children in a childcare setting? Would it be better for him, and for myself, to have some space, and to have experiences with other children and people? Am I holding him back by keeping him at home? Or am I pushing him to early if I send him to daycare or kindergarten? If Rafael starts going to kindergarten or daycare a few mornings a week, how am I going to use my time alone? Should I do something creative? Something that earns money? Something creative that earns money would be great...but is that realistic? Should I instead use the time alone to get housework done so I can focus on Raffi when he's home? Or....should he stay home longer, as originally planned, and I just need to structure our at-home time better, and begin teaching him things at home myself? Will staying home make me bitter? Or do I just need a different approach?

I still have not found the answers to these questions. I am hoping things will evolve and form naturally, that answers will present themselves, that things will flow easily and I will make changes and decisions lovingly and with a happy heart. 

What I know for sure is that I must make some changes.

I feel pressure, in the time I have to myself, to be especially productive; to do or make something creative. I ask myself: is there really room, time, space, for me to just be for a little bit? Can I allow myself that? Today I finally let myself sit in bed for a while, looking out the window at bare branches and sky, even dozing off. I am so used to functioning day in and day out, and using every spare minute productively. After all, friends and family ask: "So, what did you do with your free time?" I always feel like I should have these great things to report. 

Just being along, doing nothing for a little while, felt like the biggest luxury imaginable. 

xoxoxo

I would take you by the hand, dear reader....

What an unexpected, beautiful surprise, now at the end of the year, to discover a completely new path in the woods. As you know, I walk our dogs every day. And I admit, our usual dirt roads have begun to lose some of their magic for me, considering I see those same trees and logs and bushes every day, and now is the season where things look the same for a long, long time. Bare, brown, wet. Beautiful, yes, but I wasn't feeling as excited to take our morning walks anymore. 

There is a wooded hillside that we look at from our kitchen window, and when we moved here, we saw a large herd of wild boar digging their snouts through the snow, looking for food in deep winter. Although this was a beautiful sight, looking out from the within our warm, secure home, it made me a bit afraid of that part of the forest. Then some other dog owners told me there were also a lot of deer in those parts. This all made me hesitant to enter the woods on that side, and so years have gone by with a whole area of wilderness that I had never explored right in front of us. 

I had a morning off the other day and was feeling a mixture of bored of my regular walks, and brave enough to try something new. I thought, Today is the day, I'm going to finally have a look at those woods...I need inspiring to take photographs of!

I headed into unknown territory, going up the steep path that was ankle deep with fallen leaves. At first I wasn't very impressed; it was basically the same as the other way I go every day. But then I noticed that there was sky shining from behind the trees up at the top of the hill, and I got curious about what was on the other side. I went quicker, motivated by curiosity, noticing how happy the dogs were to have a fresh path to sniff. 

Finally I reached the top and the thin path I had been on joined a wide dirt road. The sky was big and there were birds fluttering and chirping in that wide open space. A valley, tall grasses bleached by the cold, dry brown thistles and gigantic piles of logs. Silvery birch, bare and blue against the tan, camel hillside. My heart was beating fast as I took pictures. I was dumfounded that this beauty was right behind my home. 

If I could, I would take you there. I would take you by the hand, dear reader, and lead you up the papery path, up up up, til the trees spread and the sky stretches and you feel small under a big sky. You feel far away from the cars and houses. Time stops. There is only sky, birds, trees, tall grass, and the road under your feet.

At the first chance I took Rafael and Ramon to see it. 

I want you to know how happy I am to have this new place to photograph, to share with you. The next four seasons will be so much sweeter because of this.

xoxoxo

Warm Ovens and Cold Mornings

I've been keeping the kitchen warm with baking. The last pumpkin pie has been finished off and now we're on to more Christmasy things like gingerbread cutouts, buttery lemon rounds, almond anise cookies, and a few dozen meringues, full of dark chocolate chunks. 

We've been having frosty, ice cold mornings. I took a backpack with me on a recent walk through the woods and gathered larch cones and pine branches to decorate our home for the holidays. Paired with simple white candles they make the most humble, beautiful arrangements. 

Now, when the branches are bare, I spot so many woodpecker holes and squirrel nests . From Rafael's room we can also look out the window and watch ravens in the tree outside, cawing, wiping their beaks on the branches, and sometimes looking back at us. So many of the other creatures are burrowed away now, hiding from the cold, and it is kind of nature to give us the open sky and naked trees in winter, that we may observe the birds so closely, who are mostly hidden by green foliage in the warmer seasons. 

The days, though short in terms of light, feel very long. Rafael is going through a difficult phase, seeming dissatisfied and irritated much of the time. Maybe we are alone too much. Maybe he should be with other children more often. I wonder if he is bored. Our walks in the woods are so much shorter now that it is cold, and then we are left with a lot of time at home, and although we have Play-Doh, crayons, Playmobil and puzzles, Raffi appears to have lost some interest in playing with these things. I ask him if he'd like to bake cookies or read a book, and he just seems annoyed with everything I suggest. I ask myself: Is this a phase? Or do I need to make a change?

On clear, freezing cold nights, walking the dogs down the quiet neighborhood streets, the stars pierce the darkness, and I get that strange feeling in my stomach that I always get when I look up at the night sky. There is something about seeing that open space, feeling so small under it's gigantic darkness, which both frightens and fascinates me. Seeing the stars, knowing they aren't just tiny lights but actual physical things that I could touch and walk on if I was close enough...

I also get that strange feeling in my stomach when I see airplanes soaring through the sky. I always wonder: where is it headed? Who is inside? What are the stories and dreams and hopes and disappointments and fates of all those passengers? And then my stomach starts feeling funny, and I think: to those people in the plane, looking down, I am just an insignificant dot. 

xoxoxo

I'm Ready For a New Year

As the cold and mist settle in and the last leaves flutter down from bare branches, I am ready to welcome winter, and say farewell to 2013. 

Since moving to a country with the four seasons, I have learned what the cold season means for my soul. It's a quiet, contemplative time. A time to gather your nerves, hunker down, light candles, and be strong. The survivor inside of me is called forth. I cook hearty meals and am challenged with extra chores like washing salt and mud from doggy paws after walks and dressing my wriggly toddler in many layers before each outing. 

Long icy winters build character. They test your patience and optimism. I appreciate people who appreciate winter. When someone says, "I love winter," they are immediately a bit more charming to me. 

As much as winter wears on me by the time February rolls around, I really love the beginning. The first snow; that clean, pure smell the air has on a freezing winter evening. The glow of warm homes, dots of lights in the velvety dark blue of night. The lemony morning sky. Gathering evergreen and pine cones in the woods. Baking gingerbread and making lemon curd. Piling the quilts on the bed and waking up to a snow covered world.

I have been trapped at home all week with a sick boy. I think we have passed the worst. We had some pretty horrible days and nights. And as you can imagine, I am longing for the woods, for fresh air, for moving my legs, watching my boy as he scrambles up hillsides and climbs wood piles. I miss taking photographs and observing the daily minute changes in our forest. 

Surely Rafael misses it all too.

xoxoxo