Sometimes there is an unexpected land mine. Something you wouldn't expect to hurt, but you step forward and it aches like a amputated limb, longing for what is not there.
Today's land mine was a letter from the principal of the Clearlake elementary school. Aimee and I came home from a drive to Seattle laden with a heavy bag of meds. We were having a lovely drive. I was enjoying listening to a book through Audible. Aimee was peaceful. Then we stopped for the mail and there was this letter.
It is a simple sheet. One side is a list of school supplies and the other instructions for Aimee settling in to the kindergarten class. Somehow lines were crossed and Aimee is expected to walk across the street next week to join the other cute, nervously excited 5 year olds.
It shouldn't bug me. If I turn over the paper and just see the supply list, I feel fine. The letter side, with Aimee's name, makes me dizzy.
There are two worlds. The one where Aimee doesn't belong and the one where she might have belonged. Yes, I know, those are the same world. As long as I watch those sweet babies walking to kindergarten outside my window, I can smile at their joyous chatter. It is when I "see" Aimee there walking beside them... Stop I can't think about it any more. The world hasn't ended. I know Aimee is beautiful as she is. But understand, it isn't all well. Sometimes, it is crushing. Sometimes, there is a crack running through my heart. Sometimes, there is a land mine and what isn't there hurts.
