We finally got around to yanking the disgusting cream colored carpet in our living room and dining room. It's been on the project list for years. We replaced it with this beautiful carbonized stranded bamboo flooring. While we were at it, we painted the rooms a nice bright white. We hauled out the large area rug we had in storage and unrolled it. There still a few bits that need finishing, but finally (!) the carpet is gone and the floors are beautiful to behold.
The missing carpet has created a slight echo in the dining room. It feels cold, lonely, and sad. That could just be a reflection of my mood.
For some reason, this mother's day left me more negative feeling than usual. The day coincided with a big rush to get the floors finished and Ari's seventh birthday. I've been missing my mom lately, so that's probably it.
In truth, I'm at a point in life where I can't really miss mom anymore. I miss having a mom. It's different. My life is so far from when she knew me, I wonder if she'd recognize me at all. This leaves me sad. In my mind, she'd know that it was her granddaughter's birthday. And what was going on in my life on a personal level, not just generally. Maybe I'm giving her too much credit.
For Ari's birthday, her paternal grandmother took her to Dairy Queen and let her pick an ice cream cake. Not one of those weird things with layers of cake, but a concoction made of ice cream shaped into a cake like round. The last time I'd had one of those was when my mom arranged for me to get one on my 18th birthday. It was my first birthday away from home (I was in the midst of an ill-conceived plan to attend college). It was the last birthday I celebrated while she was alive.
On my daughter's birthday, I ate ice cream cake and did my best not to cry.
I think the darkness is growing and I hate myself for it.
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