I think one of the hardest things about being a human being (not that I have any experience being anything other than a human being), is learning to embrace the happy moments in life, when you are mired in the sad moments.

As a young woman, I was fascinated by the Victorian concept of languishing away, like Madame de Tourvel in Dangerous Liasons. It seemed more sensible, during times of hardship, to have that hardship affect everything else in my life. I would wallow in sorrow, wrapping it around me like a comfy coat, until the sun would somehow shine again.

Maybe I am just too tired to have such intense and long lasting grief now, or maybe I am more balanced, less ridden with the changing hormones of youth. Maybe age has put all the bad things into better perspective. All I know for sure is I can’t be sad all the time, even when there is much to be sad about.

Which is why this morning found me reveling the giggles of a certain baby boy, and doing everything I could to cause them. Oliver thinks it’s very funny whenever we say “agoo” to him, so this morning I was “agooing” in between planting kisses on his tiny little nose. He found this so funny that my morning was filled with robust baby belly laughs. For a few precious moments, all seemed right with the world.

I am carrying those moments with me like a shield today, so they can soften the sharper thoughts trying to cram themselves into my head.

Lee’s mom is not doing any better, we are still playing the waiting game to see whether or not she is likely to recover. Even if she does, she has a long, long, long road ahead of her, with multiple surgeries, rehabilitation, and lots of pain.

I am waiting to hear back from the fire marshal, so I can learn what the investigation has uncovered, and tell him that she didn’t smoke, so cigarettes were most likely not the cause of the fire. I am trying not to call the management of her apartment building and yell at them for saying it was caused by smoking. I am trying not to let the news reports, both t.v. and print, get under my skin. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does, but she wasn’t a smoker, so I don’t want her remembered as one. I guess it also seems less stupid for the fire to have been caused by an electrical spark, than by smoking in bed.

We did go and see her yesterday, and I have to say, try to avoid ever seeing anyone in the burn unit. Those images simply will not go away. (La la la… thinking of baby giggles now…really, I am.)

Thanks to all who have shared their love and support with us, it helps to know you are thinking of us.