White & Black

There are green buds on trees. Occasionally you'll see something green poking out from the ground. There are American Coots all over the lakes and sometimes you'll see a loon.

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The forecast is for three to five inches of snow in the next thirty-six hours. I refuse to believe it.

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We spent Saturday afternoon huddled against the freezing wind in the Home Depot gardening department, buying Italian parsley and rosemary and fruitlessly searching for sage and thyme. I came home and split our spider plant into three smaller plants, planning on giving them to my inlaws when we go for a visit this weekend. The plants are everywhere in our house now, their lush greenery making me wish I had a garden of my own. Maybe I'll get an aloe plant, too.

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She is so nice, so wonderful. Yet I get impatient with her each time I talk to her. Everything is a drama, a soap opera, an event. I snapped the last time she nearly broke down into tears over her mother's extended illness. At least you know. You don't have to have dreams about saying goodbye.

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The email comes from out the blue. Thank you. You were great. You made it possible for me to do it. I am probably just as grateful for the email as he was for the class.

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The unspoken remains unspoken. We talk around it. We talk beside it. We stress. He loses more hair, more weight, more confidence. I lose faith, optimism, and whatever starry eyed innocence I once had.

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We will see all six of our nieces and nephews this weekend. I will snap pictures of them. I will play with choo choo trains and quiz about colors and letters. We will read book after book after book and just when I think I'm going to take Pinkalicious and throw her out the playroom window, we will go outside and spin in circles.