Where I am

S returns tomorrow. My family will begin to converge this week in Southern California. A celebration of my brother’s life will be in one week (on his birthday) in the desert. Sixty people are expected. S and my sister are coordinating some of the logistical things. I am feeling weary and sad but also needing to participate, needing (but not really wanting) to move beyond this time when he is no longer with us. I broke down and cried yesterday, grief catching me by surprise just before work. I just let myself cry until it was time to go.

We have a door in our bedroom that opens to the outside. For the warmer months we leave it open at night so air can move through the house keeping it cooler. Last night when I went to bed it was dark and quiet. S usually likes the TV on at night and it often stays on after we fall asleep, but she is away, so I was listening to the neighborhood noises. From far away I could hear  a rushing sound getting closer and closer. It was the Santa Ana winds, warm and dry, blowing through. The bones of our little easy up tent in the courtyard creaked an the cover flapped and plastic patio furniture slid around. Up and down the street, trees swayed and palm fronds rustled. The neighborhood seemed restless, but not me, I went to sleep.

This morning there are chores to be done, laundry to be finished, groceries to be picked up and walks to be walked. Later, I will take my camera out to a place I have always wanted to shoot and spend a few hours there. I think to myself, from time to time, how will I ever get past the death of people I love (or the dramas or the crises) and this is the only way I know how, doing things, writing things, living this life where I am.