From my bed

I want Kai to be awake with me but it’s late and I’m actually glad he’s asleep. It’s dark inside and outside all of a sudden. I crave quality time and cozy activities right now. Make it right, make it so. I have to wait till the morning but then it’ll be all business, so serious and out the door. Getting places on time, the worst. Here we are. I’m 43, Woody is 47, Kai is 11, my mom is 81, my dad is 79, my brother is 39. Is there one version of who we are as people who’ve ended up together for their whole lives? We’ve lived our lives together. There would be so many versions. There have been so many versions. There are so many versions to come. There will have been so many versions of our story. How does your grief move? We were asked in a grief ritual workshop. Movement appeared like the savior, the true way of all things and somehow so mistreated, so disrespected. We do not respect change, we do not respect movement. Knee jerk, turn away. I’m deciding right now to speak from my voice, wholly. Can one aspire to full unison with objectivity? Would that then make my subjective opinion universally true? I’m hungry but damn I’m already in bed.