Writing for Myself for a While

Badger had a very rough night, which meant I had a rough night.
She said she had a night terror.
I'm guessing she had one heck of a nightmare.
This is the private side of having an autistic adult child: they still need Mom at one in the morning.
As long as I have breath in my body, I'm alright with being her safe space.
Although, as I get older, it's getting harder to be woken up, stay up, and comfort her.


We brought Skunk home today.
He sits in the front room on the bookshelf because that's where Cowboy is most of the time.
Skunk's heart belonged to two people: Badger and Cowboy.

Heron went back to work today.
He said he did okay, but his legs feel a bit funny.

Badger and I were standing on the porch.
She was taking pictures of the raindrops on the sidewalk.
I happened to look over at the trailer Heron parked in my front yard, and slithering out between the two boards propped up on it was a freaking snake.

That snake, well, if he was a cat, I'd say he was playing in the rain.
Badger thinks he may not have been able to slither off the rain-slick metal.

Badger stood outside taking pictures of him for the longest time until a clueless hummingbird got close.
Then she came inside because she said she didn't want to see if the snake snagged a snack.

It's been ages since I've seen a snake around.
Now I'm terrified to go near the angel trumpet or that whole side of the yard.

That's about all I have in me.
Losing Skunk, even if he was just a cat, has hit really hard.
It's just like loss after loss after loss piles up, and some days you just want to find a hole, disappear into it, and bawl like a baby.
Other days you just want to punch someone.

A long blog break, which I'm taking, is necessary right now.