first real frost

last night i accidently took a double dose of ny-quil, i was totally out of it to say the least. but i slept, for the first time in several nights i slept, although z did say i was making some really funny noises while sleeping.

friend, i have been thinking about you a ton. i have been remembering when we were in romania and the first time the seasons changed from summer to fall. i remember an emptiness inside, i remember feeling lost, tired and alone. i remember nothing felt settling and loneliness was always right outside our door.

i also remember reading this passage a lot:

"After dinner the children and I sing songs and tell stories while I get them in thier nightgowns, and all is comfortable and familiar and safe and loving. We go into the bathroom to brush teeth and wash faces, and suddenly Lena looks at me and asks, Grandmadeleine, is it all right?... I think of my mother watching her husband cough his lungs out in the cold light of the Alps, and of my father setting his name down on the empty page of the diary for the new year. It was not a tranquil world for my grandchildren's forebears, and it is in the lives of these long-gone men and women that I find the answer to Lena's question. I must answer for her, looking down at her serious, upturned face, and I can answer truthfully only if I have my feet planted very firmly on rock.

I think of the warmth of the rock at the brook, and that I will never know more than a glimpse of the ouisa of the small green frog- or of my mother- or of the two little girls-

and this is all right, too.

Is it really all right? Lena persists.

Yes, Lena, it is really all right.

And the two girls and I climb into the four-poster bed to sing songs and tell stories."

Madeleine L'Engle

(from The Summer of the Great-Grandmother)