I don’t want to be one of those people that only writes when my life outside is out of balance, out of whack, as if I could write it back into place, tie all loose ends with pretty words, raise the sun and set it with the placement of a comma, a semi-colon, and an unrelenting period.
[I also don’t want to be one of those writers that talk about writing when they can’t write.]
So, I won’t. I’m going to talk about the good things…
- She makes me laugh in a way that slips out of me, unbidden, uncontainable — we laugh, together, with each other; I’m sure I’ve experienced this before, but not like this, conscious of how precious and rare it is, awake and enlivened by it all
- I’m dreaming, these days, dreaming of a little version of me and dreaming of a little version of her, and when we talk about it, it feels real enough for me to breathe out into a winter’s day and to see the smoke curling out of my mouth
- I am doing good work with my hands: building a garden, putting together furniture and installing things on walls and in bedrooms; curtains and hammers, drills and anchors, wood and woodwork; real work, real things, of value and some permanence
- She is the pulse beneath my skin; I sleep the sleep of the good; I rest easily nestled against her; I fear not the closing of my eyelids; I welcome the vulnerability of baring my unconscious self
- I remember the power of my youth; I am no longer afraid of reclaiming it in all facets of my living
- I have boundaries made up of substance and strength; they are neither too high nor too low, they are not porous or soft, they serve the purpose of shaping my life and they are under, most explicitly, my control
- I not only feel, but I know, that I am not only capable of, but I am building my own family
Pain, loss, and grief are signals – they are warnings that choppy waters lay ahead, that cliffs are there and the rocks are slippery, the mud can drag you down.
Sun, fresh air, light, and laughter are also signals – they are reminders that there is something better on the horizon, that this life is worth living, that there are people worth sharing in it with.
I’ve indulged so much in the former; I now need to counteract that with the latter and that’s because I want all that can be had in this existence. I am greedy; there is avarice in my heart.
I will not apologize for the good things anymore by hiding them.