Message from my camera


Monday was the first weekday of the kids’ summer vacation.  I’ve laid down the law and made it so that unless the bedrooms and living room and kid bathroom are relatively clean, nobody does nothin.  Books are okay, but no playing outside or electronics or texting or tv.  By 11 a.m. the girls had cleaned the hall bathroom, their bedroom, and the living room, and Sophie made lunch for Willow and herself: berry-banana smoothies; pb&j sammiches, mini bell peppers, and ham and cheese – all with happy toothpicks.  They ate and watched Jumanji and I got a staggering amount of work done in peace.  
Yay for Day One. 
On the last day of school, Sophie had her fifth grade promotion.  Everyone over a certain age –  and sometimes I do it, too – bitches and gripes about these mini graduations.  But, you know, it was so sweet and leaving elementary school is kind of a big freaking deal. It feels like even more of a big deal seeing Soph do it than the boys, maybe because I remember being a girl in junior high and I’m happy for her and worried for her and terrified.  It was nice to get to hug her first grade teacher goodbye.  On the morning of the last day of school I was blow drying her hair and had to stand on a step stool to do it because I couldn’t get the right angle.  Because she’s not little anymore.   
After her promotion ceremony, I got a couple of really good closeups of her with my 50mm lens before my Rebel stopped working.  The shutter button won’t depress, no matter what lens I put on it.  I tried to download the photos I did get, but now it won’t even turn on.  I’m charging the battery, but I know that’s not really the issue.  The real problem is that I’ve been taking pictures almost exclusively with my iPhone, so the Canon is giving me a big, fat middle finger and taking an early retirement.  I finally splurged on myself and bought an Epiphanie bag (on sale), so maybe if I snuggle it in there, it’ll come back around. 
Tomorrow makes twelve weeks since my first surgery, and five since the second.  I feel good. It’s almost like nothing ever happened, except for still getting tired easily and all these new scars I have.  Most of them are like little division signs; a tiny line from an incision with a dot above and below from the staple points.  One good thing about putting the surgery off so long is that I got to have it done laparoscopically.  It’s an actual miracle, as far as I’m concerned.
A week from tomorrow makes a year since my dad died.  I’m still waiting for the part when it starts to feel real.  A week from tomorrow, it’ll be summer again, the second day of it, and I’ll be back to a place where I’m not marking days without my dad for the first time anymore.  Birthdays (his, mine, my brother’s, my grandmother’s), Christmas, Thanksgiving, and even eclipses.  But this Sunday is Father’s Day and this will be the first one without him.  I’ve had a year to get ready for it, but it’s never going to be enough.      

2 thoughts on “Message from my camera

  1. Heather C.

    You’re right, it never is quite enough. That’s the really awful part of loss. Hugs to you on such a hard day.
    Glad to hear you’re up and about. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *