The ups and downs of life make everything worth it, and suck all at the same time. But it is still great because, because, because... and let the run-on-sentence continue.
I sit in front of computers more than not, mostly to write. Writing by hand leads to hand cramps, and messy handwriting, yet I know, when it's obsolete I'll bitch about it.
"Why don't we write any more?"
"What's wrong with this generation?"
"When I was a kid..."
Gripes gripping us by our throat, because that's what we do. Then life continues. Just to spite us.
I woke up this morning to the poking and humming of my child. "Move over, mama." His toes and fingers still warmed by sleep, my brain still foggy, so I listen. Waiting for him to find a comfortable spot. We spoon as the fog thickens in the morning air. Marine layer gravy, hiding the mountains I love to stare at. And we cuddle, and giggle, and I try to sleep, but he won't have it. It's morning. It's fun time. We must play. We must sing. We must create. We must dance. We must, we must, we must... and let the day continue.
I run up and down the stairs over and over with a broken basket in my arms, teaming with dirty underwear and socks. I miss the days of having my own washer and dryer. That work. Without coins, so many coins, that sometimes I don't have. On days when we miss the potty, and hit our pants. Poopies pants. Puddles of pee. One day it won't be like this.
"Remember when you wore a potty watch?"
"Remember when you wore diapers?"
"Remember when you were a tiny baby? Well I do."
It changes, all of it. The good. The bad. Even the horrible, heart wrenching moments - they change, morph, twist, turn and become - something else...
The day holds vast/short hours of things - mundane, exciting, life filled things. All of them. None of them. Waiting around corners, in shadows, behind/in front of me, by/next to you. And there it is, all of it. Just as it should be. As it was meant to be. As it was/will be... and then, and then, and then... we dance, and dance and dance. And we sing, and sing, and sing.
The world is beautiful
The world it scary
The world is loud
The world will make you cry
...it will kill you...
Because that's what it does.
The door opens, and I go out, or he comes in, and we sit and watch and wait for the nothing. We have reached that age when we realized stillness is a gift, and silence is an offering to your sanity - begging you to hold on for just - one - more - day...
And while you sit and wait, listen - because it's there. All of it. Waiting. Just beyond the noise. The not so secret, secret... it all lies inside of you... and let the run-on-life continue...