Worn out

We worked hard with our bodies throughout our year in Mexico, but muscles and feet were never worn out for long. The lasting damage is all about sleep.

Our clothes are worn out! We often did laundry by hand which may have given our clothes extra time. But the strong sun took a toll, along with wearing the same few items again and again.

You can tell which t-shirt is (was) Phillip’s favorite. Now we have Georgia dirt rags.

Phillip came back with a single pair of shoes - I’d say they were ready to throw away, though he needed to wear them home first. Now he has a few beautiful pairs from uncle François, and when he wears them with François’ white jeans, I’ll expect Phillip to speak in a French accent.

The poem’s balanced rhythm might imply that these seasons come in orderly fashion and then wait their turn to come again. Grief isn’t like that; it comes on strong like the tide coming in and settles back, but rushes in without warning, before the tide was due again.

Grief is exhausting. We send strength to all the worn-out grievers out there.


mom April 07, 2019

is there supposed to be a poem in there somewhere? everything i see is good and lovely, but i feel like there’s something missing!

Phillip April 08, 2019

Thanks for catching that! It’s showing up now.

mom April 08, 2019

and how perfect it is!!!! thank you!

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