Joy was us all hugging and laughing in a big pile.
Joy was seeing how Little T and Special K adore each other. C tells me Little T didn't chase a ball, one of his favorite things, to spend time with his sister.
Joy was giving away tons of baby stuff and clothes to my brother and his wife who are expecting a baby girl in June. So many memories. And we're clearing out space. Joy was seeing my brother so excited about becoming a father and seeing how getting the stuff made it more real for him. I remember the same thing when I was pregnant.
I also started the process of decluttering the garage. We have huge piles of books and old clothes to give away. I put them all in one place. It's a large pile so when it's gone, there'll be this big space in the garage. I also freecycled some old electronics and gadgets. I love freecycling. It feels better than just giving it to Goodwill. Knowing that someone actually will use it. Seeing their face.
C and I aren't sure if we want to actually park the other car in the garage, or actually have the ability to do so. A month ago, I'd have said this idea was impossible. Now I can see exactly how it could happen with more work. It makes me happy.
I don't know how to answer the numerous tests that ask you whether or not you prefer having something done or love beginnings. The honest answer is I love the middle. I really hate things at the beginning when everything is up in the air, and no clear path is known. But I love the middle when I know what to do and I can see the possibilities, and before I'm sick of the project. Sometimes it's hard to get the last 20% done, because it's almost there, but the work is often the hardest. I do almost always finish things I start. But sometimes deciding not to finish is a choice too. Not leaving things lying around, but not putting them back perfectly either.
As a society, we're taught that everything can be put back. But often life is messy and untidy, especially with small children. Order is temporary.
I gave my brother so many memories, all good ones. I talked to my dad about one of the worst times in Little T's life, about how he almost died of sepsis. I had bad dreams last night. This morning I awoke and sat outside in sunshine. I remembered that one of my joys during Little T's hospital stays was to get out for a few minutes and sit in the sunshine.
Some people believe that at the worst times when a loved one is dying, or dead, or has really serious problems, one should not experience joy. It's wrong or disrespectful. I say when I love someone, yes I'd want my loved one to be sad about me, but I'd also want them to experience whatever joy they could. Life is too short. My son has shown me that. And if the person doesn't love me, then I'm going to move on.
I do experience joy everyday with my children and husband, but I had gotten out of the groove of experiencing a little personal joy every day apart from tv. No, that's not true. I still did. I have small joys. A friend who makes me laugh. The joy of drinking a nice cup of tea. The joy of mail. You just never know what you may get. I had just forgotten that I had small moments of joy. I saw the sadness and frustration instead. But seeing my joy as a pattern instead of just experiencing the isolated moments got me started back on the long slow track to getting my wrists better.