Three’s a Charm

The two posts I wrote this week disappeared into the ether. I had my browser set to my blog dashboard too long, apparently. So when I went to “save draft,” the screen refreshed and I had to re-log in. Poof. Writing gone.

It’s probably all for the better. My last posts were about wading through more illness in our house. It’s been relentless. Relentless December.

Yesterday I took a breather from caring for Scarlet Fever and ducked into to a movie theater. A mental health break.  I sat in a darkened room with the foil-wrapped hummus sandwich I’d snuck in. The movie was perfunctory; I just wanted to be where no one wanted or needed anything from me.

Outside the theater, a man sat with an open suitcase, singing.  A scuffed cardboard sign by his chair read: “Christmas is not for mourning. It’s for celebrating.”  I took it to heart.

The first and most important thing I’m celebrating is that my son’s getting so much better every day.

The second is that I’ll be starting my new job as Helena Bonham Carter’s agent as of February 2011.  At least that’s what I’ve decided I’m going to say to new acquaintances when they ask what I do. Just to stay weird.

The third thing is both real and fake. I’ve bought a real calendar. And I’m going to fill it with fake things.  Things that I want to happen. In July I’ll write “Vacation at High Hamptons, NC” and drag my Sharpie across two sweltering weeks. For each month I’ll fill in visits to and from people I love. I’m even going to add “Coconut Girl Book and CD Release Party” in, say, May. Because, you see, it’s a calendar about Provence.  And between my son’s fever breaking, the gentleman singing, and the pictures of Arles, I’m certain God exists, and that anything is possible.