He has been at his new school for almost two weeks. Most evenings we talk. If we do not it's usually because he's busy and he's OK. I am beginning to learn the art of walking past his empty room and not catching my breath.
All these gasps, as if he just disappeared from where I was expecting him to be.
This school is a beautiful place. The staff there are beyond belief. Two cats named Clyde and Cleo live at the farm on the premises. Not to mention horses, sheep, chickens, and a little bunny with a sad laboratory history who has found his safe, forever home.
Yesterday, Benjy got to feed and water the chickens. For some reason that lies completely beyond my imaginative ken, he really likes chickens.
Yesterday there was no visit to the sheep, but that was OK. It is very likely there was a horse-kiss or two, though. Benjy is learning the pleasure of horse-kisses, which are one of the greatest things a person can experience in this world. This may be true of the next world too, if one exists. In case one does, I sincerely hope there are horses there.
The school part of school is fine at this beautiful place. Those are more or less Benjy's words. I do not believe I have heard the words "school" and "fine" is succession in quite some time. It helps that there are two bunnies in his classroom (well, one in, one just outside, because, as I have mentioned before, if the two bunnies consorted with each other there would soon be six or eight or ten of them, which might be a distraction). Bunny-time is a given. I would imagine holding a bunny to your heart when your heart hurts is akin to holding a cat there (but without the humming motor). A glorious comfort.
We will see Ben in a little more than two weeks. He is marking the days off on the Lolcats calendar I sent him. It took a lot of looking to find a 2013 Lolcats calendar, let me tell you, and when I did it was 75% off.
I am also counting the days. We all are. And in the meantime I am focusing on the rest of us -- and most importantly, on me. That is a novelty. But man, do I need it.
You thought I was sane, didn't you? It turns out I am most definitely not. My logic is intact, don't get me wrong. I live in the same world you do, more or less (no people or places only I can see). But suddenly there are no daily fires to put out. There is beginning to be regularity in my life. I can make and keep appointments. I am not living with the constant fear of crisis.
And I have no idea what to do with myself. With the quietude. With my own grief, my sense of loss. This new expansiveness scares me. Literally.
I have to relearn how to be a "normal" adult, living a "normal" life. (I know, there's no such thing. But there may be degrees of normalcy. Of "proper adjustment." I have forgotten all about that zone, and how you live in it.)
Now that I'm not fueled by fear and adrenaline (hey, that adrenaline is some major stuff) I can look into what else is inside me. What I see in there is a whole lot of broken stuff.
So now comes the fixing. I have good people on my side, too many to list here with hands not so co-operative this morning. I know will get there.
I wonder if a bunny would help?