Thankful

When I look back at the end I will be so glad

That this sorrow accompanied me

That I hurt this badly,

That I longed and missed

Thankful that I felt so deeply.

Summer Writing

Summer is here, no more excuses. I need to be writing every day. Every stinking single day. Ugh. I don't know that the writing itself is worth it, but supposedly the discipline is. I'm not sure exactly what the interplay is between discipline and creativity, but I need some!

Also, this blog needs more pictures, lots more pictures! Which means I will have to log onto Big occasionally. I am thoroughly in love with and entirely comfortable with Mini. So we'll have to work on figuring out that.

Friday Is For Wine

Friday is for wine

And laughter

Pizza and little blonde braids

And, if you're lucky, four new cabbage plants sitting plumply just above the straw.

Friday is for wine.

No Weed Killer Here

It has taken me awhile, but I am beginning to realize that choosing to not use poisons means that my garden will have more weeds. It just will. But the long term benefits are more than worth the obvious fact that my strawberry patch has weeds to pull. The same is true with my daughter.

Holding Still

Three days now

The promise of rain; the wind, the smell, and most, the waiting

Still nothing.

Dry ground, heaving humid stillness --

My heart waits too.

Crescendo with no climax, anticipation with no release,

Heavier and heavier.

I wait too

Craving, craving redemption.

Can't write tonight. Uck! I show one person the blog and suddenly I cannot write anymore. Unbelievable. Someone. Might. Read. It! A way around this roadblock . . . Perhaps I will try a sneak attack. But tomorrow.

Unbelievable!

Less

Weakness

Where I need strength

Exhaustion

Slipped into every crack I needed it to miss

Buckling

Where I needed something to hold me up

Have to push, have to try, have to rest

Have to be

Left with quiet, quiet tears

The angry all melted away with exhaustion's deep gray sunrise

Nothing makes more sense than an off-side ponytail on a little girl.

Lie Down

If I go to bed

and am still

The Day will catch up with me.

Perhaps that is why it is called lying

when you stop walking faster than the whispers following you.

The lies I showed others, the lies they showed me; mostly the lies I told myself

Surround me when I am still.

Funny Thing

Funny thing that I'm the only one left to deal with this, the aftermath.

Funny that you who remind me to pray don't feel the terror.

Call him today and ask him how his Monday is

His Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

How are his weekends?

How are yours?

Funny that I am alone again

You call me bitter, and I don't flinch anymore

You who have gotten over it, you who have moved past

The event. To you it happened, to me it is happening.

I am not bitter, I am alive. And today I am alone.

So go on about your day, please don't pretend to understand now, now when I can't begin to understand you.

Funny thing.

Girl in green goggles

Red umbrella

Pink boots

Puts back the color which grayly bled away

Hard Stuff

All the truly important things in life are worth doing 'the hard way'. Sometimes shortcuts aren't truly easier; they skip, in fear of the pain, far too much of the joy.

Thaw

In the heavy, heavy fog not a single farm animal greets the morning. Deep cloud meets deep snow, the only snow still standing. This is not spring, not yet. But we all wait together.

Hush. Wait. Wait . . .

Sunday Writes

of wine and steamships. Of gears and clocks and skeleton keys. Vegetables singing, appointments to be made which beg to be avoided. Girl in wild, wild curls. Words on walls. Dreams and cluttered realities that make up life. Time on Wings. Time flys on Sunday nights.

Life according to . . .

Sesame Street moral of the day: sometimes the Princess has to figure out how to rescue herself. Especially true, it seems, if your princess friend is a penguin and your handsome prince says "Woa" a lot.

The word "exquisite" really is just that. I must find opportunities to use that word more.

Day three of learning to cook yummy eggs consisted of peanut butter sandwiches.

Dreaming

Some of us don't get to live our dream lives. Instead we get to live dream moments scattered throughout our quite liveable lives.

Perhaps we just dreamed the bigger dreams.

burning sage

On My Messiness

My house is a mess

because it is full of life and living

(perhaps I could do better

but I do many things well,

so maybe this thing is not worth as much as I try to believe it must be

when I look around my full, brimming, messy house).

V-Musings (Which may be a copy written title)

I have not written. When I break a habit, a plan more, I am most likely to let it go altogether, as if it has lost it's worth. And I can't do that because I must write. And I still haven't written my Purpose Of Writing. So it is much too early to give up. Not sure how to sustain this though, and seriously wondering if it will make any difference if I do. I compare myself, come up lacking and want to wash it all away so that I can pretend I am equal again. Equal by doing nothing.

It is Valentines day and V-day. And I am thinking about how amazed I am by the opportunity to raise a daughter. There is nothing about which I am more passionate. To raise her with dignity and an understanding of worth. To teach her that her femininity is a treasure, her vulnerability a prize - that none of this should be exploited or used as a weapon against her. To show her how to nurture her own soul without violation so that it can never be violated by anyone else. Raising a strong, wise woman who can and will change the world for men and women - - I sat and watched you eat your lunch today in the winter sun and wanted to tell you all this. But your world is still simpler than that, and this is time for showing, not telling. You dropped a noodle and commented that it was shaped like a star, and then corrected yourself. "A human shape, with a star head." Humanity and femininity. Happy V-day, little baby girl.

Father Daughter Dance

I can hear their muffled voice upstairs

Cadence and Call that is all theirs

Neither of them know that they

Are the only spot still sane in the other's awful day

Grabbing on to the only branch

Big and little little

Flitting like their words into each other

safe Here

Father Daughter Dance