eggs

A is still home with his family, grieving their loss.  He sends me messages that break my heart open.  I keep comparing his experience with mine in my mind.  He tells me two churches in the community had to collaborate for his brother's service because so many people wanted to attend that they could not all be accommodated in one church.  (I think of my sister, and how no one except my parents' friends were there for her.  She had no people of her own, and this hurts right now for some reason.  Of course I am not telling A these things.  They are private and he does not need to absorb any more emotion from anywhere else.)  I have collected money for his family from my people at work, who were so kind and generous.  I will give this to him when he comes home.

Today is meant to be a day off work, in lieu of an extra day worked in the summer.  And like a chump, I forgot this and booked two meetings today with parents.  (Tracy asks me, "is it a ball or an egg?" as in, it's okay to drop a ball or two...)  I am going to the meetings.  I think they're eggs.



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