Happy 44th birthday to me -- new pens and a notebook -- and so long I have been away. Even standing in front of the pens at Office Depot made my torso tighten, as though I could select the wrong instrument, when the whole point is that any pen, any paper, will do as long as they are moving together in this way beneath my right hand.
In my left arm, a baby girl nurses. Last night I thought she would suck the life out of me, that each additional 10 minutes of sleep I lost to her restlessness was 10 minutes off of my very life. She was awake much of the night. At some point, I became at peace with her wakefulness, put a loving hand on her belly, snuggled her to me, and we slept. Now, it is well near 9:15 at night again, and it is late for a baby to be up, and she has napped little today, and it seems like I'll never get my life back.
But I know from experience -- from the 13-year-old girl in the next room -- that it will fly, the time, and that one day this sweet one will mouth to me silently as I enter the school she is exiting with friends, "What are you doing here?" and not in a happy-surprised sort of way but in an are-you-insane-coming-near-me-in-my-public-realm sort of way, followed by such time in the car, in our private realm, when she will complain of needing new jeans today, and would I take her to Chick-Fil-a before her piano lesson. Oh, time, you are the trickster.
As I write this, I am surrounded by piles of dirty clothes, boxes and boxes, and disgruntled animals -- cat rolling on my bed, dog sighing beside me on the floor -- and more boxes, full of the clutter we've accumulated in the American fashion. It is overwhelming.
But in the back of this new-to-us house, near the hot kitchen, lies an office-y room in which I shall set a table and a chair and some books. I will go there each day and work. I will ask, and pray, and hope, and write, and revise. And I will know that it is what it is, this life, so hilly and uneven with its high highs and low lows, but always with love. Love. Well, most of the time at least.
3 comments:
I love seeing your office and reading your journal post of 4 months ago! I shall think of you there, writing. It's true, those quiet moments are hard to come by, but come by them, you will. You must!
Keep writing, Stephanie. You have an amazing and deep, rich voice that I've always admired. You've given that voice a space and now all you need do is snatch snippets of time, little bits, and they will gradually grow into larger blocks. You'll see. :-)
Wish I not only had your gift of knowing the right words, but the talent of being able to put them down on paper and making perfect sense to all who read. You are a wonderful Mom and you will find the time again soon--when it's the right time! Very proud of you in all of your accomplishments!
I love your posts! I get teary eyed think those same thoughts about time passing and kids. It's especially meaningful when you look at your oldest and see all of the changes that will happen to your yougnest in just a few short years. Knowing how precious our time is with them at each stage is a true blessing! I'm glad you are writing because it so much of who you are and always reminds me of your strength and character.
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