And I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter
Catching my death, and I couldn't be sure
I had a feeling so peculiar
That this pain would be for evermore
Yesterday I was ill with a general malaise, unsure why I kept feeling so unsettled and anxious. Worn and weary even though I hadn't really done anything warranting that feeling of exhaustion. I had a weight on my chest that kept me glued to the couch, just waiting for it to be late enough for me to go to bed. Without moving, my head was a fog of vertigo.
This morning, I heard back from Ms. Browning that Bunny would not be released until March 15 and that she would automatically be on probation. We are awaiting more information (and potential court dates) to know what that might look like after she is released.
The weight has a name - sorrow.
The dizziness has a name - uncertainty.
While moving from 38 days to 52 may not seem like a big deal, symbolically it has a gravity that presses on me in so many ways. Not only is it 2 more weeks for Bunny to be gone, but it's another mental adjustment that moves us back away from where we want to be. It's another example of how the regular DOC rules don't apply because of how the judge wrote Bunny's sentencing - so although DOC would release her 3/1, the court will not. It's another facet of this world of juvenile corrections that has to be experienced and explored - how does probation work? What will that mean for day to day life? How many more court dates do we need to reserve on our calendar?
But for me the mental shift is back to one of captivity. Right or wrong, I've compartmentalized how life looks with Bunny gone - send her emails; read books with her; nightly phone call; a room with a door closed at the end of the hall. Jailed by reality - refusing to dream of what could be.
That's how I've lived for months....until we were counting down and passed day 45. Suddenly her return felt so close. I started coordinating the logistics for her first week back. I made mental to-do lists for things I needed to prepare. Her empty room was cleaned, the dust on the empty bookcase and floor swished away in anticipation. I started imagining her baking in the kitchen while I read. I started picturing what it would be like to say, "Hey B, what do you think about...." or "Bun - come look at this". She felt so close that I could almost see a blonde outline passing through the house.
But the door slammed on that mental activity as soon as I read the email. The weight on my chest - grief and sorrow - is a small loss of her all over again, because she felt so close and now the distance is unavoidable.
What's 2 weeks in 15 months? We can do this.
That's what I told her in my email delivering the bad news.
I doubt she will believe that any more than I do........
