Today

I begin to wonder about writing every day, or rather posting. Then I tell myself to take a day off, do something else with my free time. But I don’t want to. Writing, hitting publish, reading other blogs, commenting, reading comments to my posts and sometimes commenting back, often adding a link to facebook and enjoying a conversation there… all these bits of communication nourish me.
Today I’ve baked a chocolate mint cake with chocolate mint icing, rotated laundry, walked four miles, made friends with an acquaintance, spent the afternoon at an indoor play area enjoying the smiles on my boys as they sprinted past, drove us home accompanied by a steady click of hailsnowsleet bouncing off our van roof and a third child. Lego, Playmobil, Pokemon cards and wiggly boys adorn my floor.
Last night I was feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. Writing and sharing helps this helpless feeling fade. On my way to sleep at nearly 6am, sad and determined, I mapped out the “next” day: wake in a few short hours, break routine, let a telephone ACA meeting and writing a poem to/about my inner child be my morning prayers, pray later while getting ready for the social part of the day, meet friends where our kids can run and we can walk.
That’s how things went except I baked a cake early and opted to write later, which is now, in the company of children wrapped in make-believe.
I’m writing to Wailin’ Jennys, repeating words frequently, my fingers moving slow, the sadness of healing settling in once more. I don’t mind the sadness. I like tears better than apathy, heaviness over nothing. None of them are continual, more like waves, carrying my heart on a journey I can’t experience through senses but through remembering a sense of what I almost knew before I grew up.
As an adult I know facts, I know reason, hold too fast to logic. As a child I knew what I knew fiercely, felt like a freight train barreling through life, but had no inner permission to hang onto sadness, even when all around me crumbled.
So now? Now I’m a statue when a wave rises. Don’t want to whistle past. No rush. Now I wait, listen to her song. Knowing she can sing helps my heart.

I’m not familiar with Final Fantasy. I just love this song. The images are beautiful too.