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Whatever you say

Posted on March 29, 2010

Days go by in such a blur as lunch packing and homework helping bleed into drop-off, meetings and meals. I’m not really complaining, just noting that I am holding on somedays more than I am actually steering. The relay of milestones as Briar reads, Avery tumbles and Finley does it herself makes it more challenging than ever to train my eye on thing, like the way Avery has conditioned herself to slow down and say “Th-u-ree” instead of “Fwee.”

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Our Time

Posted on March 25, 2010

“Mom, how do we know when our time here is done?” My head snapped around and I looked at Briar, she looked back at me. Completely guileless, she waited for my answer. Heart in my throat I said, “Honey, I want you to worry less about when our time is up and more about what we do with the time we have.” She nodded and turned back to her writing. “I won’t ever forget you, ya know. You are that kind of mom, the kind you don’t forget,” all of this said without her ever looking up at me. There are times when I think I can’t do it, can’t keep myself from sobbing and clutching them in my arms and gasping for just…

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Fatigue’s Wisdom

Posted on March 22, 2010

Our family is under a fatigue induced crawl. Three sick little girls take turns owning the mantle of mast pathetic, violet circles under glassy eyes turned a blue so pale it’s as if the bug is draining every last bit of color from their beings. Their normally robust and driven dad takes nap after nap, his cintacts shucked from his eyes as soon as he pass through the door, his carriage deflated. I am in a fog, the girls walk across the room and stumble over nothing, Sean plods up the stairs with only the need for the comfort of bed keeping him upright. I muddle through, longing to— write, fold, jog, eat, laze, but finding only enough to tend to whichever person is…

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Posted on March 15, 2010

My last post was about a time long passed, a period in my youth (am I old enough to say “my youth?” Shit.) I was referring to a time when I let someone speak for me, when a person said something about what I ended or what I was worth and I took it as gospel. None of that was true, I was not less for not daring to go braless in a cut to there tank top to a demolition derby in Yakima. I was not less for driving a crap car or for working in a job that didn’t afford spur of the moment jaunts to (insert whim of the day.) That time was, but it wasn’t genuine. Have you ever considered…

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Shadow Ghosts

Posted on March 14, 2010

I began a book once. It wasn’t that long ago and it is something I plan to finish, just not that story. I have this hang up, whether it’s talking about job skills, natural talents or physical characteristics, that I am somehow less remarkable. I can’t sing. I don’t really have a demonstrable skill— don’t make anything, don’t implement a specific practice that any person off the street couldn’t do. I am not uniquely qualified. Well, you get the drift, it’s as if I am vanilla and the fact that I am neither strawberry nor chocolate makes me nothing. And yet, vanilla is a flavor, but when it comes to me, I err on the side of thinking I have no flavor. When I…

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