hello, little ones.
this has been a busy month. so many goings on and events and celebrations. eliza and ben, youve both returned to school – eliza youre a kindergartner and ben youre on year two of pre-k.
eliza, youre over the moon to be in school and to have an amazing teacher and be taught so many awesome things. ben, i had to drag you out of the car and carry you across the lot to your teachers, so theres that. were working on it.
the two of you arent in the same class or even the same school anymore, and that distance has proven a little hard for you at times while also being amazing. your personalities are so distinct and beautiful together, and when youre each running solo they really shine with curiosity, wonder, and creativity.
that distance can be hard, yet necessary for growth and opportunities to fully make themselves known.
distance allows room for growth, it doesnt provide or create it. what we do with the distance is what matters. time heals nothing.
if you ever find yourself at a distance- meaning anywhere but where you want to be, ask yourself what you can do in the in-between to get there. wishing we were there doesnt work, nor does giving up because were not there or thinking it looks too far.
taking the opportunities we have to take the steps we can is what matters. its not a race, its a journey. the end result doesnt matter if we dont learn and understand how it is we got there. as hard as it can be to take it slow, navigating the processes of life is essential to moving forward, overcoming, and healing.
i was reminded of this today in the hardware store. i was picking out some spray primer for a 40K 3D printing project im working on when in my periphery a bit of movement on the ground caught my attention. i turned my head and saw a little dog- a jack russel mix id imagine, quietly and purposefully moving alongside its owner.
it made no sound, and listened intently as its owners spoke. the little one looked up at them with complete attention, twirling slightly as though it was trying to get the best angle to watch from. the owners wrapped up their discussion, grabbed the paint they found, picked the dog up in their arms, and walked around the corner. when i lost sight of them, i realized i was kind of sad to not see them/him/her and recognized that i had been smiling the entire time i had eyes on that little pup.
for the first time in six months, i saw a dog- a happy dog, a happy dog with happy owners, and smiled. for the first time since losing franklin i felt positivity and maybe even joy in the idea of having a pet, if not my own then joy for those people sharing their lives with their little jack russel. i know ill never truly heal from losing him, because he truly was intertwined within my soul. this experience though has given me faith that i can empathize and find joy in others’ relationships with their animals where before i felt only shame, envy, and pain.
thank you, little ones. thank you for helping me close the distance between loss and love and see the journey ahead as a series of small steps and successes rather than one impossible task.
for better or worse, every day you remind me to keep my eyes open and pay attention to the small things.
…especially abandoned sharpie marker caps.