And In One Ending, We Shall Discover Some Other, Grand Beginning

I know a couple of gals who'd like me to start writing again. I'd like me to start writing again. I seem to have fallen into some sort of abyss with this blog. Complacency is rooted at my core now; I have been emotionally paralysed for quite some time. Can't explain why, really.

I am listening to the rain and longing to run out into the street, bare feet and all, and worship every God-given drop. Flooding be damned, we need the cleansing. It is late, and quiet and the cats are settling in for several hours of slumber - an activity of sorts to keep them busy between meals. I suppose I shall pay for letting them rest their furry and weary heads in my bed, as one of them will no doubt start howling at 6a.m. for breakfast. And speaking of...today and tomorrow mark the last days of my vacation where I can truly sleep in. If I had any sense at all I'd toss those two critters out into the dark, cold living room. But I have less and less common sense as I get older and I'd rather feel the warmth of their stuffed, over-fed bodies next to me and listen to their tiny snores during the night than kick them to the sorry ends of the living room couch.

I am getting ready to get in bed myself, and grade 3o essays; my students have written about their school yers - all five of them - well, perhaps 7-8 if you count pre-school. These essays are part of a larger 'book' the students are composing. They are in essence writing their autobiographies - and at such a young age! You'd be surprised. Travel-wise some of these 10 year olds can run circles around me. Nevertheless, grading essays and writing is the absolute hardest type of work to grade and I imagine I'll give it a good five minutes before giving up and searching the tube in vain for yet another episode of Law and Order: Whatever Murder or Sexual Offense Sounds Good Tonight.

My grandma's funeral is set for Tuesday at 1p.m. I figure I may actually be able to work half a day; however my mother seems to want me to come over to her house early, so I can dramatically walk her into the church - the dutiful daughter bringing yet another daughter to the pyre to pay respects and whisper barely-hidden resentments. Ah death, there's nothing like it to bring about all those conflicted feelings you may have had about a person. My grandma was, as my cousin so succinctly put it " a real prima donna." She was pretty spoiled and quite self-centered and selfish, especially with my mother. Let's just say, there's history there. My grandma was a Southern belle; she hailed from the south and never lost her taste for sitting on the porch receiving her admirers. Well, this will be her last time receiving accolades. I wonder if she'll be around in any form to enjoy it.

I leave you now and will post a picture of my insanely adorable niece. Oh sure, I'm biased I know. The pictures don't even do her justice. She just looks like a regular baby in the pictures. In reality, she's like a living doll. I believe she's finally going to go home next weekend after spending over three months in the hospital. Her name is Ella Elizabeth. My great-grandma's name was Amanda Elizabeth. My grandma's name was Mary Elizabeth. My brother met a girl named Mary Elizabeth and married her. My aunt's name is Linda Elizabeth. My cousin is Stacy Elizabeth. I am Denise Elizabeth. And so the tradition continues. Ella Elizabeth. My class has nick-named her Ella bella. Indeed, Ella, so beautiful.

Photo: Ella Elizabeth in her grandma Carole's arms at Northside Women's Hospital, Atlanta, Georgia, December 2007