It wasn’t the call I expected to get.  I ran to the bedroom with anticipation when I saw her name pop up on my phone.  We were watching something in the Lounge (formerly one of the kid’s rooms that we converted to an us room) and it was too loud for me to hear.  I could tell within seconds by the tone of her voice it wasn’t good news and the more she talked the more I wanted to cry.

When the kids were in high school and started moving out, I lost my sense of purpose.  I liked being needed, even though we had a lot of rough years raising them.  I liked having a sense of controlled chaos and always being busy.  As they became older there was less of that and more time without purpose.  So I decided to get “replacement kids”.   Little bundles of fluff that needed me.  Living creatures that gave me a reason to come home in the evenings.  We have two now and I finally made the decision to get a third.

Then the call came.

Parvo.  The entire litter contracted it.  There was nothing that could be done.  The little puppy I had picked out had already died and when I hung up the phone I sobbed and sobbed.  To some it sounds ridiculous to be that upset over a little dog I didn’t know yet, but it was the culmination of so many things with that last bit of tragic news that broke me.

A few days later, D told me that we needed to replace the sewer stack in the house … with money we didn’t have or have any way to get.

A few days after that my mom went into the hospital, where she has been in and out of ICU for the past week.

So today I cried again.  More out of being exhausted in so many ways.  Another phone call made me cry this time.  One of hope and love and a dream that somehow things might get better.

I feel better now.  I welcome the tears, because for years I couldn’t cry.   I was too emotionally numb to even feel sad.  Tears have a way of resetting my world.  I have cleansed my soul and will fight on.

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