A year ago yesterday, I updated this blog. And I wrote of plans. I wrote about making plans and breaking plans, and coming out whole on the other end. A year ago, when I wrote that entry, I had no idea that in 6 months, my mother would be dead, and in 9 months I'd be married, and that in a year I'd be grappling with it all, the way I am shattered by extraordinary anger and extraordinary bliss. I can't quite lend it language yet, but I am trying. A writer without words is not much.

We'll start with shock. We'll end there as well. We'll say that life is staggering in it's abruptness. In searching for a way to put letters to swirling thoughts, I recall the sharp and winding turns I drove in California on my honeymoon last fall, after the exhilarating straight uniformity of the Golden Gate Bridge. "Here we are," I thought. "Driving across the Golden Gate Bridge." Suddenly, the roads became  S curves that didn't stop for miles. I feared every car and animal I saw. I had never driven those roads before, and had never seen anything like them. I didn't trust my driving skills, though I've been driving for many years. I felt as if I'd never been in a car before, as driver, passenger, or cargo. I tensed, I panicked, I likely produced much eye-rolling from my ever-patient husband. How did we get here? Weren't we just driving straight and predictably across that magnificent landmark, leaning out the windows into the October breeze with our camera?

It took me many miles to realize that the S curves had their own beauty. I should have taken more time to pull over for photos.