Scrawling

yet again it's too early after a night that went too late, and my head throbs as it's been doing lately. i can't undo the tired, can't undo all the mess, nor the empty.

i've been still, trying to be filled.

i almost came to say goodbye to this space, to crumple the paper, toss it aside.
~~~~~~~

my coffee cup has rings in it from where a sip taken and time lapses have left their mark like a door panel growth chart, and three rings down the brew's just too cold to enjoy.
the baby's forehead is still hot, his cheeks still somewhat flushed; he fuss-whimpers for me to hold him while struggling to settle down.
the fat orange tabby meows for letting-out, and somehow i'm hearing all metaphors this morning.

good morning memphis chatters on mute. i forgot i wanted the weather.
i've written of bleak winters and missing my spring, and here they are, all my favorites: the japanese magnolias, forsythia, buttercups, redbuds, and new green sprouts. i see them, but dimly, lacking my usual enthusiasm.

see? life goes on, coffee gets cold, and weather reports get missed. this is how the empty seems to fill me up lately. i know there is more, can see the Bigger just outside my peripheral, and somehow feel unable to reach, to articulate my gladness at spring.
~~~~~

i know words will come, for in the beginning was the Word. He will come, He is. these are the truths that don't let go (even when i feel i hold on to nothing).
i know grace is freeing (even when i feel i'm drowning), and her story will write itself (it looks a lot like "wash me" on the back windshield).

cats need letting out, diapers need changing, baby needs nursing, and husband needs transporting to airport. ebb and flow, slow tide, whoosh.

dare i smooth out the crumples in my paper and press flat my hopes again? scrawling....