I think I accidentally stopped breathing.
Not literally. Obviously. Though judging by the state of my shoulders and jaw over the last week, maybe not that obviously.
When I finally fixed the code on my website—the bug that had been strangling my creativity for days—I felt something I wasn’t expecting.
Relief.
Not the little “yay, I fixed it” kind of relief. The kind where your whole nervous system quietly says, “Okay… I guess we’re safe now.”
I hadn’t realized how much that broken code had stolen from me until it was gone.
The ideas came back.
The desire to write came back.
Even my ridiculous enthusiasm over finding Dr. Teal’s Strawberry Serenade bath salts came back. Seriously… whoever dreamed up strawberry, basil, and orange deserves a raise. If anyone from Dr. Teal’s is reading this, I am available for sponsorship.
I will absolutely run my mouth in exchange for free bath salts.
No shame.
So here I am.
Again.
In a bubble bath.
With candles.
A glass of wine.
My tablet.
A Bluetooth keyboard.
Which feels slightly counterproductive since baths are generally meant for relaxing, not typing 900 words.
But my brain has been running at about 147 tabs open, and apparently this is how it processes.
Today wasn’t all about me, though.
I bought my granddaughter a new crib mattress.
It’s such a simple thing in the grand scheme of life, but seeing how grateful my daughter and son-in-law were… I don’t know.
It felt good.
Not because they couldn’t have figured it out without me.
Because they let me help.
As parents, our kids slowly stop needing us for the big things. Then one day they call because they’re excited about a crib mattress, and somehow that tiny act makes you feel useful all over again.
I don’t take those moments for granted.
Then the mail came.
Everything for Blitz had already arrived.
Except the urn.
Today it showed up.
It is even more beautiful than it looked online.
I also added a sage bundle and candle at the last minute, because it somehow felt right.
I started putting together her shadow box.
We clipped a little of the white tuft from the end of her tail and tucked it into a tiny glass heart-shaped jar.
Her paw print is there.
Her service dog patch.
Pictures from every chapter of her life.
The urn.
All sitting together now.
Waiting.
There was something painfully final about opening that package.
Not because Monday is here yet.
Because now I can see what Monday will leave behind.
This evening my partner and I sat on the back porch.
A couple of bong hits.
The dogs at our feet.
A warm Florida night.
It was… ordinary.
The kind of evening we’ve had hundreds of times.
And then it hit me.
There aren’t going to be many more ordinary evenings like this.
Soon there won’t be the slow trip outside to help Blitz potty.
There won’t be lifting her.
Carrying her.
Helping her stand.
Cleaning up after accidents.
Planning our evenings around her needs.
And then…
I caught myself thinking…
“That part will be easier.”
Immediately followed by…
“God, what kind of asshole thinks that?”
Apparently me.
But I don’t think that thought comes from wanting her gone.
I think it comes from loving her so much that watching her struggle has become exhausting—for both of us.
The physical burden has been real.
The emotional burden has been heavier.
Acknowledging that doesn’t mean I love her less.
If anything, it reminds me how much of our lives have become centered around making sure hers is still comfortable.
I would gladly keep carrying her forever…
…if forever didn’t also mean carrying her pain.
So tonight I’m choosing to stop writing.
That’s probably the healthiest sentence I’ve typed all week.
The code works.
The website breathes again.
The blog is alive again.
My granddaughter has a sweet new mattress to sleep in that my daughter loves.
Blitz has the beautiful resting place she deserves.
Everything that absolutely had to be done…
is done.
Now maybe it’s my turn to take my own advice.
I’m going to put the keyboard down.
Close my eyes.
Sink into this incredible strawberry-scented bath.
And for the first time in what feels like forever…
I’m going to remember to breathe.
✦ enjoyed this entry?