One foot

Putting one foot in front of the other.  That’s what this week has felt like.

I was not expecting this underlying  . . . and unaccustomed . . . layer of sadness that is permeating my days right now.

But we go on.  People carry on.

I went to Soulard Market on Saturday and returned with white grapes, green beans, strawberries, new potatoes, cantaloupe, some limes, and a four-pound brisket that will serve me well this week.  Plus 30 pounds of Jonathan apples that will need to be worked up on Sunday and Monday.

And I taught my usual contingent of lessons this week as well, save for two illness no-shows on Saturday.

Friday night grin between performances.

Friday night grin between performances.

We opened Heathers at New Line Theatre this week.  Opening night on Friday was a sold-out thrill.  I arrived late because I spent the first part of the evening at Webster University for the first choral concert of the year — a stunning performance by three of our choirs.

Speaking of Heathers, this show is incredibly complex, multi-layered, and really quite beautiful.  I’m so glad to have been associated with it.

The sympathy cards started arriving today.  I burst into tears again.

Sam had been with me all but one of the months that I’ve lived in this house.  The shadows are everywhere.

As I have read further this week, I am convinced beyond doubt that Samson had canine dementia.  The behavior changes are all consistent with many of the markers of that illness.  Release was the right loving final act, no matter how sorrowful for those of us who loved him so.



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