(no subject)
“Help”
...
“Help”
She calls out to me. Dark morning.
I’m in the hall with my cup of tea, reading in the light, on the couch there.
I don’t go immediately. Maybe she will fall back asleep. But the second call worries me and I go.
“You called for help?”
“I can’t sleep without a grown up”
And i crawl into bed beside her, propped up on a pillow against the wall. I finish my tea in the dark room beside her, her small legs twining with my own. I keep reading, glow of screen turned down dim.
Her small body, warm and sleeping, beside me.
In this rich, luxurious, warm new bed.
Like a hotel bed. Strange and comfortable.
--------
I spent time adding new journals to my flist. Sometimes I trouble over time spent here, reading. Too much? A waste?
But it does not cause me anxiety, like faster forms of social media do. This is slow and easy, attentive, intentional. Something less superficial.
I removed some recently added and feel minor guilt. The reading... just, not enriching. I find myself skimming your journal instead of reading the words with interest... sorry.
-----
My body.
Sneezing and running, mucus drip.
But I feel fine.
Just producing this excess.
I hope it’s not contagious. I keep a tissue in my pocket. Don’t get worse, please.
.
.
.
Yesterday.
A bed delivery. Two angels in the rain. I help them put the frame together. Effie too.
Charity.
Effie says, completely unprompted: I’m ready to take a shower at your house now.
Oh; that was not in my plans, but this is not an opportunity to waste.
So we do.
She does.
I go with her.
Now the first time is done and the worry is gone. It’s fine.
I can bathe my child.
The hairbrushing is sweet when it’s not a fight.
And.
We drove Jesus to work. With Jeff too. We drove them both to work.
And we drove to medford to visit. To work?
Kids play. Getting on well. Parenting need decreased.
Help with a task.
Chit chat with a 7 (?) year old.
Hub bub, productivity, work getting done. Pleasantly.
I make lunch.
6 around a table, sharing food. Food from my hands.
What bliss. This is my bliss.
A feeling of family. Cherish.
(Am I the imposter?)
Deep breathe.
Back to earth.
Ed called me to say the river was agush.
Today I will try to go see it.
I anticipate the overwhelming feeling... some bliss on the horizon.
...
“Help”
She calls out to me. Dark morning.
I’m in the hall with my cup of tea, reading in the light, on the couch there.
I don’t go immediately. Maybe she will fall back asleep. But the second call worries me and I go.
“You called for help?”
“I can’t sleep without a grown up”
And i crawl into bed beside her, propped up on a pillow against the wall. I finish my tea in the dark room beside her, her small legs twining with my own. I keep reading, glow of screen turned down dim.
Her small body, warm and sleeping, beside me.
In this rich, luxurious, warm new bed.
Like a hotel bed. Strange and comfortable.
--------
I spent time adding new journals to my flist. Sometimes I trouble over time spent here, reading. Too much? A waste?
But it does not cause me anxiety, like faster forms of social media do. This is slow and easy, attentive, intentional. Something less superficial.
I removed some recently added and feel minor guilt. The reading... just, not enriching. I find myself skimming your journal instead of reading the words with interest... sorry.
-----
My body.
Sneezing and running, mucus drip.
But I feel fine.
Just producing this excess.
I hope it’s not contagious. I keep a tissue in my pocket. Don’t get worse, please.
.
.
.
Yesterday.
A bed delivery. Two angels in the rain. I help them put the frame together. Effie too.
Charity.
Effie says, completely unprompted: I’m ready to take a shower at your house now.
Oh; that was not in my plans, but this is not an opportunity to waste.
So we do.
She does.
I go with her.
Now the first time is done and the worry is gone. It’s fine.
I can bathe my child.
The hairbrushing is sweet when it’s not a fight.
And.
We drove Jesus to work. With Jeff too. We drove them both to work.
And we drove to medford to visit. To work?
Kids play. Getting on well. Parenting need decreased.
Help with a task.
Chit chat with a 7 (?) year old.
Hub bub, productivity, work getting done. Pleasantly.
I make lunch.
6 around a table, sharing food. Food from my hands.
What bliss. This is my bliss.
A feeling of family. Cherish.
(Am I the imposter?)
Deep breathe.
Back to earth.
Ed called me to say the river was agush.
Today I will try to go see it.
I anticipate the overwhelming feeling... some bliss on the horizon.