This Moving Train

...It's been a while.

In the past couple months of my blogging hiatus we've observed Vincent's one-year passing anniversary as well as the anniversary of his burial and the break-in.  We've celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas and the new year.  I've been hired as the praise band leader & choir director at the little Lutheran church down the street.  We've made new friends and acquaintances. Once a week I get to watch the sweetest baby for our friends who also live nearby.  And there are other employment possibilities looming around the corner.

My life is going on, continuing to evolve, move forward.

And yet I sort of want it to stop.  For a few months now it seems that all around me renewal, new life, and even optimism have been growing, slowly gaining momentum, and in the process I've been caught up in the surge of a new beginning.  As wonderful as it is to see a new future on the horizon, I find myself increasingly wishing to have the old one back. I wish my other life, the one where I had two sons that were 22 months apart -yes, that one- was possible.  I wish I could have Vincent back with us, healthy and growing, I wish all the people that I meet and befriend would know him, (or at least understand the depths of my pain.) I'd trade everything for my old life, the one where I was relatively unafraid, where I felt safe, cared for, where I was surrounded by all my children.