hope

I woke up this morning to a winter wonderland.  It looks like we have about five or so centimetres of fresh snow, and it's still coming down in big flakes.  It's a perfect day to curl up at home, and do report cards. It's my least favorite part of teaching.  They take forever to do, and I'm really not sure how useful they are for parents.  I'd rather sit down and talk about their child face to face.  So much more personal.  Michael and I had a great Saturday.  We went for breakfast, and then went shopping for our trip to Cuba. I bought a new bikini, which is a big deal, because I've never worn a two piece before.  I love it!  Michael and I have never been somewhere hot in the winter,  and I have been dreaming about going to Cuba for many years.  It's perfect timing.  I can't believe in two weeks we'll be getting on a plane, and leaving for sunny beaches and mojitos.  When we booked the trip in September, it seemed like time was going so slowly.  My heart was broken, and I felt like life was hopeless.  When January arrived, I thought it would never end.  And now that February is almost over, I can't believe how quickly the time has gone.  Strange how you can live two realities.  In the past few days, I have truly begun to feel hope.  Michael choosing to go on leave has been the best decision.  We've been talking about things besides school, and have had some deep conversations about the past and future.  I've been remembering moments about Luka's life and death,  I had forgotten about.  I was looking at pictures of my pregnancy, and found some beautiful pictures of Seven, our landlord's cat, relaxing with me just before Luka was born.  I remember that moment.  Luka moving in my belly, the evening sun pouring in, and the sereneness of what was to come.  I remember the hope I felt as I walked the hills every day, and the beautiful artwork I created while I was preparing for her birth.  On the second morning of her little life, I remember how hopeful Michael and I were.  She was the most alert and awake, and for a few precious hours, we believed that she was going to be okay and we would be able to bring her home.  At her beautiful memorial, the wind gently picked up out of nowhere as we remembered her gentle spirit.  Hope. The last seven months have been the hardest and most empowering months of my life.  In the past few days I have been feeling a huge shift in energy.  It literally feels like the weight on my soul is being lightened.  On the way home from shopping,  Michael and I were listening to the new album by the Wailing Jennies.  Driving down the highway,  I looked at my handsome husband, and I felt this overwhelming sense that everything we want is about to happen.  I grabbed his hand, and held on. I could feel his love, and his hope for the future.  Cuba is what we've been waiting for.  And it's almost here.