“It surprised her that her grief was sharper than in the past few days. She had forgotten that grief doesn’t decline in a straight line or along a slow curve like a graph in a child’s math book. Instead, it was almost as if her body contained a big pile of garden rubbish full both of heavy lumps of dirt and of sharp thorny brush that would stab her when she least expected it.”

1 month or 30 days or 720 hours or 43,200 minutes . . . every move the clock’s hands reminds me of the time passing.

In the last month:

I have had three more friends announce engagements, one announce a pregnancy and another give birth.

I have read five books totaling 1876 pages.

I have looked into moving with more sincerity than ever before and I don’t think that I will ask this time. Italy . . . Seattle . . . D.C . . . Hawaii . . . I do keep reminding myself that I really don’t enjoy the cold so some place warm would be nice. Maybe D.C. isn’t such a grand idea. After seeing Letters to Juliet, I am definitely missing Verona and all things Italy . . . but I am a sappy, hopeless romantic.

I have spent too much money.

I have gotten angry and again tried to prove to myself and the world that I can do it alone. How? Well for starters I had to figure out electronics because of the stupid changes my cable company made which required changes behind both my televisions. So I moved my 400 pound entertainment system by myself in order to get behind it to set things up. Let’s just say that I was sore for an entire week and probably did some damage if I really want to be honest about it.

I have been to the temple five times.

I have realized that a lot of the time I don’t really pay attention. I can’t believe how much I take for granted.

I have surprised myself. Have you ever been in the middle of a conversation and suddenly realized just how much you knew? I have discovered recently that I am a fairly intelligent person. I know this is going to sound pompous, but I can hold conversations about a wide variety of subjects with knowledge and understanding behind it. I don’t think that I ever really have given myself credit for this since I would rather be listening than talking.

I have run a 5K. I have managed to obtain a sunburn. I have failed. I have held my new nephew and played with my nieces and nephews. I have rigorously scrubbed my house. I have played in the park. I have cried. I have paid a house payment. I have done visiting teaching. I have taught two classes. I have prayed. I have been courted by a duck. I have gone to movies. I have played with friends. I have written undelivered letters. I have had a facial. I have cooked. I have missed. I have driven for hours with the windows rolled down and the music cranked high. I have skipped church (okay it was only once and I just couldn’t do it). I have listened to the rain. I have hung pictures. I have made lists. I have desired.

There is so much more that could be added, but all isn’t meant to be shared. I have been told on occasion that no matter what I will be fine. That is a true statement. I don’t know how not to pull the work clothes on and dig my heels in. It is what I was taught to do and something that come naturally to me. I have responsibilities and people that count on me. I just don’t think that fine equates to happiness. Sure I can be fine, but is that enough?