Beginnings

You'll have to tilt your head as I don't know how to fix the sideways photo from my phone camera.

This is an amaryllis that I got more years ago than I can remember that is blooming. It hasn't bloomed for me since the first time. I can't help but see it as a good omen.

When my husband and I were first together, the Christmas cactus that he had from his mom's funeral started to bloom and has bloomed every year since. I take that as approval from his mom who I never met, much to my sorrow. She sounds like a wonderful person, and she raised such a wonderful son. A good omen.

I've been on this journey of healing since 2000. I've just been getting healed up after a car accident when another happens. I've had no real bleeding type injuries, thank Merciful God. But have had two brain injuries which has changed my life profoundly. I am a different person.

The hidden nature of the injuries makes it easier to "pass". But it also lets people forget, including myself the depth of the changes. Having very few memories most of the past 8 years makes it hard to gauge the changes as well. I don't know how my few friends that I have in my life from "before" think about how I have changed. Mostly I think that each of us are so busy trying to keep up with the changes and challenges of our own life, that little energy is left over to consider anothers - so I don't worry about. They still seem to love me.

Mostly, it's the inner landscape that feels different. Blessedly, it is growing less awkward. It's like moving to a new town. At first all the streets are different and lack any memories/history/context. As you live there, things happen to build memories and you get a sense of the flow of time. "There is a tree that turns bright red in fall that is just there"; "The guy who sharpens knives parks there. I'll bring that dull knife into him when he comes back next month"; "The grey horse that looks just like that jumper I used to ride is back in his pasture, I wonder where he went" - historical context and texture.

But sometimes there is that moment where something reminds me of a street where I grew up so familiar and so sharp in detail - that no longer exsists anywhere but in my memory - and there is such deep disorientation. I am there and my reactions are there and they are all so mis-matched to where I actually am.

I have flashes of how I would have used to react to things, of how I would have felt or done that feels so awkward and out of touch for how the map is now.

But the map grows more familiar to me. The textures and history are growing richer and deeper. I refer back to who I am more not contrasting to who I was.

The edges still chafe a bit. I plan on working more on the places/habits/personality bits that I miss to see if I can make them bloom again.

Which is why I am so thrilled with the good omen of my flower blooming after so many years. Good omen. Even if you have to tilt your head a bit to see it as it is to me.