making room for change

Driving to work today and looking at the dark sky and gray, barren trees alongside the expressway made it feel like a very Gothic day. Not paint-your-face-with-lots-of-black-make-up-and-lament-that-you-are-alive gothic, but rather, gothic like stay-at-home-in-bed-with-a-cup-of-tea-and-read Nathaniel Hawthorne's Young Goodman Brown and Poe's The Telltale Heart-and-get-really-creeped-out-kinda-gothic.

The three day weekend went by far too quickly, with big chunks of it spent in church. Friday I went church hopping with best friend L for Good Friday services and was pleasantly surprised when the second church we went to had a Taize prayer/adoration of the Cross number. It was very spiritual and not hokey--which is how I interpret many of our more "meaningful" Lenten activities, they mean well, but fall short for me.

Saturday I had to look at bridesmaids dresses with best friend Married K, who is standing up in a wedding. My nightmare hour and a half spent in the bridal shop gave me a new sense of hell, but luckily Married K hates those places as much as me so we hurried.

I was so tired by the time that the 9pm Easter Vigil rolled around and was glad to get out into the new Easter night at 10:45 pm. I think Jesus wanted us to celebrate so I did, and had a cosmopolitan with the beer drinking boys over at R.O.

Sunday was nice. I celebrated with my Mom, brother A3, sister A1, bro-in-law M and Monster Niece and Nephew S and A. College K and her boyfriend Jesse came over later for dinner.

Another holiday without Dad. It's strange. I still expect him...a little...like he is working on his car and will be strolling in through the door ready to sit down to dinner.

It is funny how you can really take something for granted: the way that room was made at the table for extra chairs for holiday meals; the sincerity in someone's voice as they pray before the meal, the same prayer they have been saying for 20 years or more--simple and humble--though in recent years new editions have been added to the staple starter; the way we teased and laughed at the table; eating meals off the same wooden table that we did homework on over a decade ago. There was something precious and Norman Rockwell-ish about the holidays we spent in my parents house.

This year we ate at my sister and brother-in-law's house and talked about my parent's house being for sale. It made me sad. Like my friend Mari said, "it never gets easier, it just gets different."

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