peace and quiet.
the thing we raisers of humans crave but only have in short bursts.
and then the ones whose humans are raised love to tell us to ‘enjoy every minute’–but they forget how much they need that quiet rest, that space that’s full of nothing at all, only the hum of your insides.
my constant struggle is to enjoy even among the bursting seams of family life–the constant flicking of my attention from one to the other until my heart screams “ME! LOOK AT ME!” and to flutter my attention around more gracefully, instead of clawing my way through.
true silence
pure like drops of rain in the blue morning,
before they need me
and i want to see their eyes flutter open
dance to life
but i am sad to see the quiet go
and mourn the light dripping in without time to watch it
hold on til after lunch, i tell my heart
flicking my attention from one to the next
baths, diapers, clothes, spills and all the rest
(oh, to rest!
for as long as i want
what a queenly possibility
of regal proportions)
don’t mistake my tiredness for a badge of honor, though
i don’t wear it that high
it bites at my ankles
kisses my toes
bathes my calves in responsibility
and longing
and heartbreak
because the heart has to break to hold theirs inside
not obligation or martyrdom
but love, the kind that flows out of you strong and fierce before you can hold it in
and then i claw
to get a piece of me back
not realizing I’m all scattered away
but I am here
to rebuild anew with every fresh day.
Hey friend. Still here? You might be interested in a family session that captures more than just your faces and if that’s you–let’s chat. (I’ll send ya pricing and availability lickety split!)
