back to crying

I am starting to do this thing again that I hate so much, but cannot seem to help myself. Where I start missing him before he’s even gone.

I live inside the light of Freddy’s love. I am held within his gravity. I imagine it must have been the same with the older kids, but it’s hard to remember for sure. The timeline is so different now. Maybe because I have more words today. More feelings. More ways of knowing.

Last Friday, I spent the day in the woods with Freddy’s Wildwood Forest cohort. All day out. It was warm but the snow was so deep that if you ran, you ran in slow motion, snow up to your thighs, or your belly for the four-foot crowd. I couldn’t tell if he knew I was there or not for the whole day, until sit spots at the very close. I was in a snow nest under birch trees, my feet and hands all of the way cold to the bone.

I was drifting, dreaming, thinking of everything and nothing all at once when I heard his little humming song, his near constant companion, creeping up on me. He climbed into the hammock of my body and we sank deeper. His humming turned to purring, and my whole body opened to the closeness of him. I do my best to absorb every bit of touch he continues to seek out. The future absence of him is like this inevitable weight in the moments in which he’s so near. I feel them both at once, and again, the timeline blurs.

Eider had a birthday this week and it’s always a crap shoot if it will gut me or not. This one did.