Ashes to ashes to ashes again OR why I don't sleep until February

My insanity will prevail.

Drop to the floor digging in the soggy ashes. It’s a good thing I remembered to bring my shovel this time. I realized that the melted bed has preserved everything I stored underneath it. I dig, I claw. 

Somehow there is a way to slide out the containers that hold the brass Christmas ornaments my parents started collecting for our family in 1973 when they were married. Right there is the box with all my craft supplies, too.

It’s there. Not all of it but there were so many more things I could salvage because I’m not pregnant anymore and I’ve had almost four years to plan better ways to rescue all the things the fire took.

My heart races.

Yes, that’s it. I had my son early, in time for the demolition so I could have gone back. I could have dug. There were still things that would have made it.

Why didn’t anyone offer to help Brandon dig?
or sit by the incubator while I did.

I didn’t care about ruining my clothes and I didn’t need my beat up rose boots anymore. I only wore them that day because I was saving both new pairs of Docs til these really wore out.

They’re expensive, you know.

Gloves. I could have used gloves. Then ashes wouldn’t have gotten under my nails and stained them. Like my feet were stained from the soggy soot bleeding through leather and socks.

How do you expect me to decorate for Christmas when the pink tinsel tree is stuck under the bed and along with our childhood stalkings?

My grandmother’s crystal was ready for Thanksgiving.

I didn’t even have to try for Halloween because those things stayed up all year.

But there is more I could have saved. I know I could have carried more than I did that once
…and the cats are really gone, right? Because I stopped checking found posters this year. …mostly.

How do you expect me to breathe, while the earth is turning and our bed is burning? 

Year after year after year….

How?