Lucille's Dress

I had a crap day at work. I had to quantify some difficulties I had with a colleague. Every single person has the same kind of difficulties with this person. I had to do this because I mentioned (to her) that her behaviour (toward me at the moment in question) was unnessessary and hostile, rather than explain my methods which she was so vocally and publicly condemning. I'm nice (I am) and I wasn't mean but it's going to the top. The Big Top. And not Pee-Wee's nice Big Top. Hopefully when she gets to the top she'll see a new, exciting, enticing view and decide to go over there. My bosses (as in big boss and bigger boss) told me I was right and true and apologised for having to respond. They hope the same things about the view and what her opinion might be about it.

But today, gearing up for tomorrow, I had more important things to be miserable about and I resent the intrusion.

Lucille Melia, January 4th, 1982 - September 4th, 1982. My third child and second daughter.

This year my darling grand-daughter is a couple of weeks shy of the same age, as is her mother to my age at the time. The age gap between baby and devoted older brother is not much different either, so it's... it's not scary because nothing is going to happen and I'm not superstitious... it's just acute. Sharp. And I ache with love and sadness as I cuddle Mercedes and remember my own daughter, frozen in time at 8 months old.

I wrote something a few years ago and posted it here, if you're interested.