The Lights Were On.

Scaffolding at my back door I looked around to see the shingles, but I could not see them. My head was a blur. A friend and my husband met me at the back door. A Christmas Tree in the living room, it's Christmas? I cozied up in the security of the couch. Home didn't look like home. The ceilings were too high. I felt so disconnected. I kept thinking of having to meet all the people in town who have those pitiful mourning eyes to greet me. It's out of love and concern and care, but how am I supposed to respond when you ask me how I am? Which moment is my new response. Which 10 second interval?

I really went in to the emotion sitting on the couch. I called my family to tell them we arrived safely, but couldn't talk, could barely hear. They were in another universe and I couldn't explain, I was so closed. I read the whole pile of cards that people had sent, I took a shower and put on my own flannel nightgown. There was no comfort found. The couch became my solace once again. Confrontation with Rafi, misunderstanding, neither of us getting our needs met. "Put Joni Mitchell on," I said to him. "Leave me alone," I said. I felt anger and sadness and the need to rip something apart, but no strength to move. I felt currents of sadness pulling on me. And then it came, great gasping gulps of sobs of tears. It lasted a long time. Eventually my family came to me, Rafi holding my side, Ce sitting on my chest.

The girl offered me compassion. Truly she did, there's no other word for the love she gave me. She put her hands on my cheeks and penetrated my eyes with questioning half-gasps. She offered me a cat figurine. Rafi held my side, my hand, my body. I told her I was so sad through the tears and she wiped them away. When I had snot running to my upper lip I asked her to get me some tissues and she did. We wiped our noses together and she gathered the tissues and took them to the trash. She played the xylophone for me. Rafi kissed my cheek. Joni was playing. Adam reappeared. Inhale. Exhale. The next wave is here.