Capture Your Grief, Day 22: Dreams and Rituals

October 2015 | Target | Longview, Texas

Day 22: Dreams and Rituals

I have an abundance of dreams, though I can't say I have many rituals; unless you count loosing my mind the second half of my cycle every month for the last year and a half a ritual. However, the thing that I think of when I read today's prompt was a little habit I picked up the first week I knew I was pregnant. I go to target often -correction, I live at target- and do my usual route of the store. Walk through the doors, shield my eyes from the women's clothing section, look at my feet, look at my feet, get distracted by a super cute scarf, manage to get back on track, look at my feet, look at my feet, annnnnnd the fresh produce section finally, where I I actually should be. Every time, friends. Every time. Just before I head to the checkout line once I've finished my shopping that I actually came for (plus a mug I don't need), I make my way back to the baby things. The clearance section is positioned in the middle of the maternity and infant festivities, but by taking a very specific route I'm able to get in and out without passing clothes and accessories - because as most mammas after loss know, those are the hardest. I don't go crazy, I think in the last year I've bought four small things. Things I know I'll need some day, and I have faith will be used. Things like Baby lotion baskets that have been marked down, plain unisex onesies and infant nail clippers. I started this little clearance run in excitement at the beginning of my first pregnancy and over the year began coming back in hope. In its own small way, it's me acting on the faith that I have in our future. It's me glancing at a shelf and seeing my family amidst it's items. I suppose you could call it a ritual, but really you can also call it a dream. A dream of being there again some day soon purchasing socks for the feet that press against my ribs, and not just because they're Marked down 90%. A dream of opening the box in the closet of our spare room that contains the small things I've hidden away. A dream of a family, our family, and dream of target runs without rituals.