Wildness, redux

So maybe this is not just my quit-smoking blog, but my get-through-hard-times-generally blog.  And Where the Wild Things Are might refer to the wildness of grief and obsession as well as the lovely critters I see while hiking.

Sunny hillside with tarweed, Mount Diablo State Park.

A lot has changed since I last posted, but I am still quit of smoking.  It's a good thing, because I am awaiting biopsy results on a lump in my breast.

Sweet Georgia Brown is gone.  He died April 4th, 2012.

The other main thing that has changed is that Piera is gone, was gone, specifically, 7 days before this cancer scare.  And that is so large and wild of a hurt that I can't yet really post about it, especially not sitting here in this home that we shared until just a blink of an eye ago.

I was thinking about writing today, and the sentences in my mind were sort of scintillating and witty.  I had little jokes lined up about titty bling and frankenchi-chi.  But home in this House of Grief, no longer a House of Bun, I feel grimmer.

Women are coming out from everywhere to support me.  The Realtor, my clients, colleagues - something about what I am going through makes them want to share their experience, support, and strength.

My friends and family are carrying me through.  I am trying to skate lightly along the ugly underbelly of life and still hike and eat and care for my Leopard (who had major surgery on Wednesday - it's been that kind of week).

I don't want these times to rear up and grab me.  I don't, either, think I will come through unchanged.  Too much has happened for me to know how to pray in words, but I did kneel down and kiss the ground when I heard coyotes sing tonight.

Is there a prayer of your heart?  What does it say?