I have completed Day Two of a marathon that will likely last a one thousand days. Or ten thousand days.

…Day Two. Just two steps on a walk across the void to the Promised Land. Well, this day is not over yet — I still have to find some rest behind my closed eyelids.

In memory of Elijah Rainbow Fisher

I miss my baby. I miss my husband. And in the busyness of another day of interviews and chores, I don’t have the option to peer into the yawning gap that has suddenly opened in my life.

It was a fairy-tale life. We were living in a beautiful stone palace surrounded by green fields of flowers. Colourful flags flew from the pointed turrets, and the halls echoed with song and laughter.

All of a sudden, the earth shook and a void opened, swallowing our palace, my husband and my son. I am left, standing on the edge of the raw chasm with my arms wrapped around my four beautiful daughters, wondering why my life disappeared so quickly.

The girls are a great example to me. They turn away from the scene of devastation and start to collect wildflowers from the grass. Each bright spot of colour is examined and appreciated.

Enticed by their enthusiasm, I start to look at the flowers. As I do so, my attention moves away from the tragedy that is threatening to swallow me too.

Now we are refugees, walking slowly to a new place to call home. With my children’s help we’ll be stopping to enjoy the flowers on the way.