Sedum and September 11th

Sedum

I needed to step away from the workers tearing up the house, for which I’m eternally grateful, but whom I just want to go away. The smell of the fire has seeped into everything. The adrenaline is still there from that night and causes me to start at the smallest sound. And yet, my job goes on, with the incessant emails and phone calls and ridiculous problems that only humans can make up.  My kids’ needs go on and with them my neverending ache to fulfill them and ease their pain and longing.

 But I need it to stop just for a minute. The noise of the fans and dehumidifiers and the demolition of the house I worked so hard to keep up with. So I sat down on the rock wall and stared at the sedum. They’re not fully bloomed yet but the dozens of bees on them didn’t seem to care. The almost fully magenta blooms were teaming with activity.  I wonder if they noticed how blue the sky was, or if they’re grateful for the warm sun today because they know it’s just a little while before the shorter days are coming. Or are they just seizing the moment of the ample pollen before the winter famine? They don’t know it’s September 11th. They don’t know my life has been turned upside down this week…again. They don’t care either. But I do. I get to care about these little bees loving my flowers that I water nightly from May to September. I long to stroke the fuzzy bumbles as if they were my own little black and yellow cats. I get to care about the next step in rebuilding my house and whether or not my kids take away from this is a case of PTSD or something that we will be able to laugh at around the dinner table one day. I’m so grateful for the sun-soaked stones seeping through my leggings, warming my tired bones. I’m so very tired. The white noise of the buzzing is the best bee balm there is. Why is the sky always so blue today?