Today I logged into WordPress to find that my computer or WordPress or some electronic being had forgotten my username and password. I was prompted to login and on the same screen was the small box that resides under most usernames and passwords: “Remember Me.”
Please do.
Granted, this box, if checked, will only remember my login information. Funny how something so simple can really capture it all, isn’t it?
Tomorrow morning Mr. P, Little Girl (I haven’t told you about her yet, but she’s our new addition and quite simply the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen), and I will get in the car and drive away from what has become home to go make a new one far away from here. Mr. P’s medical school adventure begins in just over a week on the other side of the country (and this time I promise to write more so that you don’t get metaphorical whiplash from my telling you I had a baby in a mere parentheses). This week has been filled with goodbye after goodbye. Goodbye sweet midwife who helped bring Little Girl into the world. Goodbye Francisco, you’re the kindest mailman I’ve ever met. Goodbye genuine Nugget grocer who walks my bags to the car. Goodbye church family who feels like real family. Goodbye friends–no description is great enough for the life-giving you have done. We even said goodbye to our sweet trans-gender cat, Caesar. We’ve been giving away our furniture, our bicycles, blocks of cheese and other things doomed to perish in a week-long car trip. All must go.
Like all things stripped, we await. We try to tie up the loose ends, not knowing they are forever bound to us. The place we were newlyweds. The season of learning what love is and isn’t. The people who witnessed the day I became a mother and trained me up in the gritty beginnings of midnight feedings, bath times, and feeling as though it’s my heart that beats inside that infant’s chest–every time she cries or grins I feel it. There is no proper name for this place with its cloud of romanticism and sobering doses of reality. My sister calls it Baltimore, my mother Sarasota. Davis, California.
We await what comes next, around us, inside of us.
“Remember me.” If there was such a box for this place, I would check it.
Mrs. P 