Tuesdays are hard. That seems to be a pattern. No sleep Monday nights and really hard tear-filled Tuesdays. I will see if it continues to track next week.

This pattern began the day before he died. In fact, I had not slept more than four or five hours the two nights before he died. He woke up with me, asking me what I needed at 4am both nights. I did not know what I needed. I still don’t.

Tuesdays.

We mark a week in a cyclical pattern. Ironically, we mark our linear time in cycles: 60 seconds, 60 minutes, 24 hours, 7 days, 12 months, 356 days. And then we start them over. Linear time creates the notion that we are somehow progressing. We have left the past behind us and are moving toward some future never lived before. Linear time is irreversible; it only goes in one direction for ever and ever.

A lot of parenting requires repetitive, cyclical actions. I have driven in circles for decades now dropping my five at various schools, picking them up from school, taking them to local lessons for piano, guitar, violin, art, singing, horse riding, soccer, basketball, cross country, and baseball. Sometimes I stay at the lesson, or sometimes I have to circle back for another kid or run an errand while I have thirty minutes to an hour to do so. Then, I go back and pick them up, and finally we head home. Rinse and repeat.

We live in a small town where most of what we do is local and nearby. So, in many ways, I do drive in circles between the main roads through town and all the various stop and drops.

Do you remember the Spirograph Art? It came with a variety of plastic discs with holes and colored pens. You placed your pen in one of the holes and rolled the disc around an edge to create a circular pattern. I would love to know what my spirograph path looks like around this town where I have driven in circles for nearly twenty years.

That Tuesday, I rushed down from my studio/office, grabbed Ellie’s piano bag, and headed to their school that is a few minutes away. Since I was late getting to them because E had planned to be there, I took Ellie straight to her piano lesson. William and I dropped her off and circled around to get gas. I had to pull over before turning in because an emergency vehicle was was passing me on the main road through town heading in the direction of our office building. After gas, we grabbed beverages at a local coffee shop, and then it was time to pick Ellie up from her thirty minute lesson.

Because Edmond still had not responded to my phone calls or text, the kids and I decided to make one more circle so we could stop by the office to check on him. The parking lot was filled with flashing lights of every color and emergency vehicle, including the one that passed me earlier.

Is there some special mark in my spirograph path that would be noticeable from when my car came to a stop outside the yellow tape surrounding the office? Did time stop? It feels like it did or should have.

The circles in which I drive and the sirens play on repeat. Emotions seem to be circling too. I measure the day or hour I am in against the previous one. It is hard to tell if I am circling down into or outward from the center of a spiral or literally just going in a circle without levels or variation. If there is a shift in the intensity, one way or the other, I cannot tell yet. This is an acute place of grief and pain. I hope like hell I am on an unwind and heading toward some longer stretches where breathing is a bit easier and lasts a little longer.

The memory circles might be the worst. The ones coming around to the front of my merry-go-round mind are the simplest moments, things I have not thought of in years, like when we waited two hours for a table completely content to be together, next to each other on a bench holding hands. Memories of all the restaurants that I don’t know if I can ever enter again creep into my visual/emotional space. We had so many beautiful delicious meals together. I understand and know what it is to be haunted by beautiful memories.

In Native American cultures and other indigenous cultures of the world, time is not perceived as linear. Time is circular. Within any moment, the past, present, and future exist. There are no beginnings or endings, only what is.

I have occasionally found my way into cyclical time through states of deep presence. For a moment, I can fathom or glimpse or taste what is. It is a state of presence that our linear-aligned culture challenges. Cyclical time feels out of reach in the hustle and bustle of all of our “doings” and progression toward the next frontier. Linear living is disconnected from the way the rest of the planet and nature beings (water, air, animal, bird, tree) live.

Today is better than yesterday. In cyclical time, today and yesterday both are.

P.S. *Seasons are cycle time markers too, and so are birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. We are still in the birthday season for all but two of our family members. (Six spring birthdays!) Today is Summer’s birthday. We love you Summer. We are so glad you are here. The world needs you.

Going in Circles