I was in a dark place yesterday.
After blogging I decided to take Ace for a walk. She was pulling so hard with all her pent-up energy. I led her aimlessly up a street I’ve never explored in my new neighborhood. Suddenly the road seemed to rise at a 45-degree angle towards the sky (not uncommon in San Francisco). We somehow found a park and climbed switchbacks until we had a view of the entire eastern half of the city, from downtown to Bernal Hill. It was twilight and I felt like we had walked out of our hellhole and into a magical land. If Ace hadn’t been limping I might have let one of the teenagers push me on the rope swing over the void while she ran along the ridge, watching me fly.
Instead we walked home and took a bath; life doesn’t stop just because horrible things are happening all around you.
And why should it? What really separates the horror from the delight besides your opinion?
Tonight, Jefe and I built our last piece of Ikea furniture, a new bed. It is tall, dark, and handsome despite being cheap. I hoisted Ace up on the fresh sheets. I think she could sense my surprise that the bed’s construction had gone smoothly. She promptly engaged me in a wild game of Bitey Face.
Tomorrow, we go meet with the surgeon to talk about cutting my baby’s leg open. But tonight, we build and we play.