My Brain Shook

I'm done. I'm done! I'm DONE! I'm absolutely 100% completely done with being an undergrad. I took my last finals last week and now all I have to do is prepare my house, family, and self for moving across the country. I'm so glad! I'm not sure yet how I did overall, but I'm pretty confident I did well on my finals and finished out with a moderate bang. (is that a bing? a bap? whatever... i'm giddy)

In other news, well, there really is no other news. I was just feeling a bit neglectful of my blogging duties.

Today Lucy has been having a rough day. Well, we all have. She does something we don't like, we tell her not to do it in a grumpy way, which makes her do it again, because she feels bad and mad about having been told and then boom. A fight. It culminated tonight, after her best friend's birthday party and a long day of running around, cake, candy, and bad food.... Todd was clipping Stellaluna's (our black kitty) nails. Lucy made a loud noise which scared Stella. Stella scratched Todd. Todd told her in a grumpy way to not make noise and proceeded to continue with claw-clipping (i was *trying* to butt out) and she felt bad and mad and did another loud noise, the kitty really scratched todd and todd YELLED so LOUD!!!! I've never seen her yell at her like that ever... I've done it, but it's a first for papa...

Anyway, after the crying ended (major bigtime crying) and I was talking it over with her, she looked up at me with her tear-stained cheeks glistening and lip quivering and said, "He yelled so loud my brain shook."

Sometimes the imagery she comes up with astounds me. Especially in light of her extreme four-year-old behavior. She speaks with such clarity and beauty about feelings that she doesn't understand. It's miraculous.

Recently, she went through a phase when she was feeling not so well and I would pick her up at school and she looked so sad. Happy to see me, but like she was waking up from being sad. She told me each day, "I was feeling jealous for you." I thought she was just using the wrong word, a word I'd explained to her recently but that she wasn't grasping correctly. I would reply, "you missed me today?"
"Yes."

A couple of weeks later, I was alone in my car and the Writer's Almanac on NPR was on. It was Emily Dickenson's birthday and Garrison Keillor was reciting a poem, "The Last Night that She Lived". I realized that her word was so aptly chosen, it couldn't have been more real to what she was feeling. I was just too dense to understand. Not the last time, I'm sure.

The last Night that She lived
It was a Common Night
Except the Dying—this to Us
Made Nature different

We noticed smallest things—
Things overlooked before
By this great light upon our Minds
Italicized—as 'twere.

As We went out and in
Between Her final Room
And Rooms where Those to be alive
Tomorrow were, a Blame

That Others could exist
While She must finish quite
A Jealousy for Her arose
So nearly infinite—

We waited while She passed—
It was a narrow time—
Too jostled were Our Souls to speak
At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot—
Then lightly as a Reed
Bent to the Water, struggled scarce—
Consented, and was dead—

And We—We placed the Hair—
And drew the Head erect—
And then an awful leisure was
Belief to regulate—