All I can do is look ahead.
I lost nearly everything I have ever owned when my house burned down. When my parents’ home burned, I lost even more — childhood memories, family history, things I just assumed would be around forever like our wooden advent calendar and the cradle I slept in as a baby. When I think about these things it takes my breath away, like a punch in the gut. It hurts.
Marshall and I have moved into a beautiful rental home with my parents and siblings, and we hosted Christmas there. It went off without a hitch, and surprisingly, it felt like home. Nothing felt out of place. We bought shelving for our new room and started putting our things away in a way that makes sense. The present is comfortable and the future has promise. As long as I look forward I feel all right. But if I look back, I am lost.
I’m not interested in talking about what’s gone. I’m not interested in talking about what happened. I just want to move forward, and I’m not going to worry about whether or not that’s psychologically healthy or well-adjusted. This is how I’m coping right now. I’m taking it one day at a time and hoping for more silliness, laughter, and coziness in 2018.