- Share This Post
- Pin It
- 0
- 0
-
Sparkle (0)
Last night I wrote,
I find myself yearning to run away. Images of sweet cottages nestled into mountainsides settle behind my eyes; sounds of rushing water tug at my belly; sun and time and solitude shine like beacons. Come, they whisper. Come. And damn, at this moment I want to go - anywhere beauty bests anxiety and hope wrestles (and wins) with demons. Anywhere illuminated. Anywhere familiar is an essence instead of a task. Anywhere but here.
Today:
He assumed his mother to be happy, but later, looking back, he thought she was only as happy as a person waiting for the next phase of her life might be.
I read this in To Be Sung Underwater by Tom McNeal - a big, beautifully written book I'm enjoying in spite of my slight dislike of the protagonist. Not knowing exactly why but sensing its resonance, I marked the sentence with a post-it before continuing on. This morning, I sat down to write myself, re-read what I started last night, and thought, "aha. So that's it."
See - I don't want to be a woman - a mother - who is only as happy as a person waiting for the next phase of her life might be. I don't want my daughter to look back on our candid moments and think "well, she seemed happy, but...". No buts. No seemed. No somedays. And what I wrote last night was a someday. Someday, somewhere else it will be better. But today's light has me realizing last night's wish - however beautiful - was more apprehension than it was instinct. It was the restlessness of fear, my desire to know, to fix - and my hesitation and unease to sit with the million and one feelings that pummel and seep into my heart on any given day. A heart that by the time evening rolls around is so full it has no choice but to spill over - into tears or laughter, movement or meditation, desires to escape or, if I'm lucky, into words.
So I took my daughter to a park by the lake today, and we spread out a blanket and had a sunny, breezy picnic. We climbed a wall of rocks and listened to the splash of the water against them. And every once in a while I turned to my girl and said, "I'm happy here, with you, today". And she'd touch my arm or my cheek and smile back at me. No somedays today. Just today.
