When I made Saturday’s blog post on Sunday morning and said Happy Easter, it kind of left me without anywhere to go on Sunday evening. I had a delightful holiday with some of my family. As a friend put it, I have a wealth of family, and for that I am truly grateful.
That being the case, I feel I should not go on to make a Wrist to Forehead Sunday Post. I mean, one does not go from having a lovely Easter Sunday to swooning, posed dramatically with the back of one wrist against one’s forehead, dreading Monday. Does one?
Not exactly a swoon, but notice the placement of the wrist.
Here I am being dramatic in Dirty Work at the Crossroads, presented by Ilion Little Theatre, directed by my late husband, Steve. I always wanted him to direct again, but he never did. This is a problem I am having. At odd times, it hits me anew: I will never see him again.
I’m sure anybody who has suffered a loss has these moments too. I try not to feel that I am the only one to ever shed a tear. Sometimes I think I am a bigger baby than most, but one does the best one can.
So I am grateful for my nice day with my nice family. If I start to feel sad when I am home alone, well that is just the way it is. I forgot where I was going with this. Ah yes, just trying to make my Sunday blog post on Sunday. We’ll call it a Wrist to Forehead Sunday Post and drive on.
Mohawk Valley Girl 