Friday Randoms

When we finally arrived at our new life, I found the person I had packed up would not do at all.  Four boxes of clothing and only two pairs of Levi’s?
Who have I become?

I went back to open that dark door again,
but found only a small, bright window where it used to be.
And what should I make of that?

It’s been over a year and I just switched my focus forward from all I left behind.  Had I waited a moment longer, I might have fallen right over the edge of my life.

Motherhood broke my heart and I can’t keep anyone out anymore.

I’m going back to ugly places, where there are beautiful lines, poorly housed in shanty poems.  And when I get there, I’ll be kind to the girl who wrote all that falling down poetry.  Even if she’s a stranger now, I walked here in her shoes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday Randoms

It’s wild to think that a year ago I was frantically packing, avoiding saying goodbyes I didn’t want to need to say, and feeling so unsure.

It isn’t easy making the transition from leading others, to leading only yourself.  I miss having a team, but I also love the deeply personal pride I feel after completing a project on my own.

One of my favorite things about being home with my Sunshine is the luxury of doing one thing at a time and giving all of myself to that one thing.  Whether it’s playing with her outside, cooking, writing, chores, or anything else, I no longer spend all my time doing one thing and thinking about something else that needs doing.

Part of the reason I loved this house the moment I met her is that a writer is meant to live here and I knew when I crossed the threshold for the first time that I wanted that writer to be me.

Motherhood is amazing and fulfilling and difficult and precious.  The rest of me is still here, too, and still needs to be acknowledged, exercised, and cherished.  It’s a balance I’m still working out.

Even on our worst days, I miss her while she naps.

Time to go, the dishes are calling, and since I let that call go to voicemail yesterday, I’d best pick up today.  : )

Bye!
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Snippets

Outside, the wind is swirling so many autumn leaves so high, it’s like living in a fall snow globe.

It feels like I have a place in this lovely, little town; I’m just not sure where it is yet.

To love and care for my old dog, who loved and cared for me so very well in his prime, has been one of the greatest honors of my life.

Don’t tell my husband or my mother in law, but my daughter is reminding me of everything I ever loved about Christmas before working in retail destroyed that love.  At least I thought it was destroyed . . .

We were going to call our little farm Boldlygo, but just the other day, my sweet Sunshine brought me a book off of her shelf and we read it together.  It was a long-forgotten favorite of mine and fits too perfectly to pass up naming our place The Tomten Farm.

As it always does, fall is pulling me into myself where all the winter words are, and though it hasn’t always been a pleasant journey, I find myself looking forward to writing from that dark, silent space.

I don’t know how he is always the man of my dreams when my dreams are always changing.  I just know that every day I wake up and it’s still him.

 

 

Sleep Deprivation

It was a long night.

My nod to hygiene today was to undo my braid from yesterday and pile my hair on top of my head in case the birds are looking for somewhere to crash.

Sweet Sunshine finally fell asleep for her (much needed) nap about five minutes ago. The dogs and I are in the kitchen looking dazed and afraid to make a sound.

I’m on my third cup of coffee, but already have that feeling that no amount of coffee is going to clear the fog from my brain.

Our kitchen is a wreck (though I did wreck it for the noble cause of two blueberry lemon loaves, one seed bread, and homemade pitas!!!) and my only goal for the day is to clean it up.

The seed bread for sandwiches needs some work.  We sort of combined recipes and while the flavor came out perfectly on point, it didn’t rise as much as I’d like it to and has the density of a dying star.  The pitas got off to a rough start because whoever wrote the recipe said quarter inch when what they meant was an eighth of an inch, but after the first two, we figured it out and the rest came out perfectly.

Okay, I do have one other goal and that is to write an update or three about Mac n’ Cheese Manor to include: settling in, strange plumbing, and the discovery of mold (not a devastating amount of mold, but mold nonetheless).

Happy Tuesday everyone!

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Old Lines

These are some of my favorite one liners from years past that I’ve never written poems around.  Maybe now that I’ve got a bit more time to write, I’ll be able to pull a few poems together.  : )

 

Stop craning your electronic necks, there’s nothing to see here.

Look at life through the eyes of another
and you may see things as you haven’t seen them before
but you still can never see just what they see.

Some of the things experience teaches us aren’t true.

I wanted to wash my heart, hot/cold, heavy duty cycle.
I wanted to open my mind and let all the facts fall out.
I wanted to write, but I couldn’t even breathe.

I’d love to do this another way
but my eyes cling to their color-
I simply am what I am.

Happiness can only be made with what you have.

The box is too small.
If I don’t start thinking outside of it soon . . .

I put away my knitting early tonight.
No matter how many tidy rows I stitched
my thoughts wouldn’t follow suit.

If the answer were in this coffee cup, I would have found it twice by now.

Thursday

I am in the shower taking my time, shaving my legs, washing my hair . . . glad to be rediscovering some semblance of the vanity I knew before months of sporadic bathing and routinely forgetting to brush my teeth–before motherhood, that is.  Out in the kitchen, my husband is dancing to Mambo Italiano with our 8 month old daughter.  When the song ends, the sound of their mingled voices gets closer.  I hear him say, “A is for Astronaut or Aerospace” and in my head, I think “or appaloosa . . .”  She babbles back and they move on to “B.”  This time the word is one I don’t know, likely something to do with space and/or engineering.

Today is swim class day: one of my favorite days of the week.  The pool is always fun and even though the class is short, it wears out my sweet Sunshine for the rest of the day.  Taking a sip of my coffee (another rare treat, shower coffee, usually these days my showers are too short to enjoy a cup of joe), I think about my life a year ago.  I was tired, very pregnant, worried about the future, and so sad to be leaving a life I loved so much for a complete unknown on the other side of the country.  I didn’t enjoy being pregnant and while part of me wanted so badly for her to be born so I didn’t have to be pregnant anymore, another part of me desperately wanted to just stay pregnant forever so nothing would have to change.

In the kitchen, I can hear they’ve moved on to “E,” which is apparently for “Electromagnetism.”  In my head, I think, “or eventing.”  I take another sip of coffee and realize it’s getting late, I should hop out so Carl can head in to work and Sunshine can start her nap.  But before shutting off the water, I stand there just one more minute listening to my new life.  It isn’t perfect.  I still miss my Idahome so much I ache sometimes, and Lord knows I’m going to have to make a friend or two here before I completely forget how to socialize like a normal, adult human.  But the beauty of this new life takes my breath away sometimes.

I knew I was going to love watching Carl be a father, but the reality of it is beyond anything I imagined.  I hoped we would find a house in the country, but our little farm is straight out of a Robert Frost poem.  And I was sure I would love my baby, but what I feel when I hear her little voice babble along with her father’s in the next room makes me wish we had more words for love.  I realize I’ve been standing in the shower crying for several minutes now.  My coffee is cold, but my heart is warm.  Drying off my tears along with the rest of the water, I step out into the chilly bathroom.  Carl comes in to remind me he’s late, the baby reaches her sticky hands out for me with a big, drooly, two-tooth grin, and . . .

I’m happy.

 

Time

It’s time again–to wash, fold and put away another piece of the past.

It’s time again–to sit at the window with my coffee and think on what the future might hold.

It’s time again–to roll up my sleeves and tug at the threads of fate, disrupting the work of The Weavers.

It’s time again–to be unsure and carry forward anyway.

Ready or not

It’s time.

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