Our Cracking Bones Make Noise

Sometimes I think it was easier to write a blog post before I knew anyone was reading. When I was just standing at the top of some virtual mountain shouting into the air around me, never knowing if anyone would hear me – sometimes it was easier to put my heart on display, to share fears , to truly open up.

So, sometimes it’s easier to not say the things that are weighing you down. It’s easier to talk about music and books and that funny thing my kids said.

But you’re here, and you’re reading and I’m still the me who likes to write – no, needs to write – and sometimes I wonder where to put the words that hover under the surface. I’m grateful that my words aren’t being swallowed into nothing.

My brother was admitted to the hospital last night.

Feverish, incoherent, heart racing.

This isn’t the first time he’s been to the hospital in recent years. There’s a routine to these matters, it seems. Something happens, my mom finds a way to get him to the hospital – she calls me, or texts me – I’m then charged with telling my dad somehow. After all these years, they still don’t get along very well.

Then we wait.

And his myriad of health concerns mean that a little thing can be little or it can mean a week in the hospital. And you never know.

So, while we’ve fallen into routines (“Oh he’s in the hospital again”), there’s that voice in the back of my head every time that says What if this isn’t routine? What if this isn’t the same as last time? What if…

It’s scary.

My brother’s health problems and difficulties have prevented that friendship everyone always talked about (“You just wait and see, when you’re adults, you will be good friends!”). Mentally, he’s younger than my children – it doesn’t make for easy friendships. But he was around since before I was born – and someday he won’t be – and that’s scary.

None of us are promised anything – we each have the moment we’re in and we’re not guaranteed a long life where we might die in our sleep in our 95th year. Just now, this moment, here.

While I stand on familiar ground, while this is a road I’ve seen before – I may even know the intricacies of this roads twists and turns – because yes, our family has traveled it – I am still very afraid of what is ahead.

I haven’t heard anything from my family yet this morning – and in the realm of “no news is good news” – that is a relief almost.

So, we move forward with the day with one step in front of the other – hoping good things, wishing good things. Hoping for another routine stay that will blend into the background of the many before it.


The title of this post is from Ingrid Michaelson’s “Breakable”:
And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys

About sarah

Sarah is a book nerd, a music lover, an endorphin junkie, a coffee addict. Oh, and a goof ball. She writes, she tweets, and she sings off key.


  1. I’m so sorry you are going through this, Sarah. There is something spectacular about an ordinary day, and it’s easier to appreciate from your perspective. Hope things improve today!

  2. I hope he’s okay. Hugs 🙂

  3. xoxo

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