How how those sparrows sang for you

June 13, 2009

Thursday evening I went for some groceries later in the evening. The windows were down in the car. The moon was bright. I popped in Josh Rouse's 1972 CD, knowing that it would put me in a good mood. During the drive home Sparrows Over Birmingham started playing. I got chills as I listened. And then as I pulled into our driveway, I broke down in tears. I put my face in my hands and sobbed.

It's been a long time since I cried like that. The song made me think of Harper and all the things I would never get to see her do. "I should have a little girl with me right now." More tears.

It was one of those times when a few nagging thoughts hung around in the corner of my mind, just waiting for others to join so they could gang up on me.

First thought: At a work celebration this week, Grace's family was there. We met her boys. She commented that her one son was 3 pounds when he was born. My baby was 14 ounces when she was born.

Second thought: A little girl, maybe 18 months, was in my office this week. She was sick; runny nose, watery eyes, flushed cheeks. And I wanted to scoop her up and cradle her and rock her and tell her she would feel better soon.

Third thought: It was the fourth night in a row I had been home alone till late. I was supposed to have a child with me on nights like this to take care of and fill my time. On Facebook everyone talks about their kids. Their kids keep them busy. I don't have a kid to keep me busy - but I was supposed to.

Friday morning Jeremy and I woke up early and did some major yard work. I always love doing yard work. You see the fruit of your labor so quickly, and what better fruit to enjoy than a lovely back yard? As we were raking and pruning away I said, "I had a break down last night about Harper. It was just one of those times when things piled up on me."

"I know what you're talking about. That happens to me too," he said as he stood in the garbage can stomping the debris down to as small a space as he could so we could fit more in there.

"It's been a long time since that happened to me," I told him.

"I know. It's gonna happen to us the rest of our lives. It's just the time between will be longer." He went back to his stomping, I went back to my pruning. But she's been with me since then. Thoughts of her linger. And the ache is still there. Sweet little girl of mine . . .