So this weekend was my first daughter’s first communion. I’m actually still basking in this weekend, not least among that being the fact that my best friend ever Meaghan (yes that Meg, Sienna’s godmother) came for four (4!!!!!!!!!!!!!) whole days. I can’t express the joy and delight I had in finding that after all these years, she’s still Meg, my best friend, the only person I’ve never known who can give me her opinion without telling me what to do, the only person I’ve ever known who I trust as much as I trust the Ogre, and infinitely more than I trust myself. She is my best friend in the truest sense, because of all my friends she is the best one for who and what I am, now and forever. And her daughter, my only goddaughter Ella…oh, words don’t do justice to what meeting Ella was like. It was like meeting my own daughter, who had lived and grown for five years before I could even put my arms around her. I miss her viscerally, after only four days of having her all the time within reach.
I’m working on a post about that, but all my totally not-cool-mental-illness-ey issues are interrupting that process. This evening, the kids were watching a video that my brother-in-law (Sienna’s godfather, who also came for her first communion, God bless him) showed them. As we watched it for the eleventy-billionth time, the Ogre said, “hey babe, what’s wrong with you isn’t that you’re bipolar or depressed or anxious; it’s that you’re this duck.”
And dang* it all if he wasn’t right.
*I realize that no one says “dang it all” except cowboys in western movies and my Mamaw, but my mom asked me to stop cussing so much. Dang it all.