Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Spring?

Okay, where is it? I hear and see birds, a good sign, but it is so blustery and grey that it feels like lingering in winter's last gasp. I hung a birdhouse today after being inspired by my cross-the-street neighbours who have several birdhouses and feeders hanging in the bare branches of their little tree. Just looking at that everyday cheers me up, so I decided to do the same. I don't think they'll mind.

We returned from a trek north yesterday. Spending Easter with my family was relatively low-key this time, as my Brasilian sister-in-law scaled down celebrations because her mother is back in Brasil and she hasn't the extra help to prepare all the festivities. My father is somewhat recovered from his heart attack, but no less acerbic. He seems to delight in making offensive remarks, especially directed at me, but I've decided not to take any bait.

Having A and E with me helps me deal with the return, so I'm always grateful when they are both there. Even so, I am often ensnared in nostalgia. This time the big news is that my long-gone sister is making a prodigal return to visit my father with her 4 kids, husband, and kids' boyfriends in tow. This is to happen in May. I'm convinced she's only doing it to stake a claim on inheritance money and take what she can grab of my mother's belongings while she can. I did try to broach this with my father and brother, but they don't understand my sister as I do. She's avaricious. I can't say I'm looking forward to the hell that will ensue when my father does "drift into the netherworld," as he says now. He claims his near-death experience was delightful and nothing to fear, like falling into a comforting sleep.

I wish I could sleep. I still can't. I'm racked by worry about work . . . and nothing seems to help. I have no idea whether I will have any teaching work next year . . . and fear I'll have to move far away to even have the opportunity to teach in a board, but maybe even not then. I just don't know what to do.

I'm trying to stay present . . . here with the birds, with my coffee, with a blank page, but it isn't easy. Real spring weather might help make it easier, but maybe that's just me wanting a distraction. Action is harder to think about.

No comments: