Monday, August 29, 2011

Again

22
how many days since i've even typed in that address, the one that declares i'm a fragile urn.
i've felt barren of words and empty at heart-soul in this place--which is not to say i've been unhappy or shut up, just that i was living life there instead of here and the longer i played away the larger the white empty space here filled up, began to feel impenetrable.

31
the years i turned with birthday just passed, an official forray into third decade, and i didn't feel older at first despite the silver threads that glitter my crown. but somehow, in just 2 weeks, i feel old and shy. i got to spend my birthday with my two womb-mates, beloved sisters, and that alone was magic.

3
owen's days can be counted in months now, not weeks, and i know i will cry when it's years instead of months, for he is truly last, husband's appointment completed, and this one my baby, so big-small and squishy-round, and mama-loved.

~~~~~~~
we are planning a shower for another friend expecting first, so she came over to discuss details, but with our babes born days apart, her first, mine fourth, we talked of sizes and sleep schedules and motherhood and callings. she aches to write and i felt a pang of jealousy. i told her i'd never known a calling like motherhood (which is not to say i always knew i wanted to be a mom!), and i wondered if she were a bit jealous of that as well. all that talk of calling and passion stirred me. i drove and saw green leafy summer again. i played song in the car and cried at lyrics. i read a blog post that kindles art out of me, and i begin to hope that words might be here again. it's not so much that i have to write or else--that is how she feels--but i realize i must create and be inside of beauty. i grew four boys beyond compare. i knit and bake for fun because i love to give to others something my hands formed. i cry at art and song and read words from others and sometimes spill out here, too.
and if i'm presumptuous enough to ask if you've missed me, know that i've missed you, too, desperately.
~~~~~~~
with another year older and baby growing big, and boo-boos to kiss and homeschool to start, i can't promise that i'll be incredibly regular, but i want to write again. patience as i find my groove again?


7 comments:

Manda said...

You are right, sweet girl... we are as two peas in one silent pod. But if we wait the Gardener waters and grows us...
You're words are medicine to my aching soul.

Brandee Shafer said...

The best writing comes out of living. Sounds to me like you love your life; words will come sooner or later.

Imperfect said...

To create and be inside of beauty... oh, how I know what it means to need this as well.

Nancy said...

Why yes I have missed you, but I know how much little Owen needs his mama. Glad you are loving him well and getting to see some leafy green summer!

Jodi said...

Yes indeed, I've missed you, and the beautiful way you smith words. And, I will now forever regard my own gray hair as "silver threads that glitter my crown." Oh, and I like your taste on Pinterest as well. xx

Leslie said...

of course i missed you! and you don't have to write pulitzer stuff - just you being you is GREAT. and ditto to what jodi said about the "silver threads" (although mine are covered up every 5 weeks or so ;)

Bethany Ann said...

patience -- of course. and please, climb a tree and think of me. and keep visiting -- i love our visits.