i was instantly transported to the time when i was green and innocent and full of vigor and passion about every child having a chance and providing a chance for every child. not much has changed for me on that note since then other than the names of the demons and other things that go bump in the night that i fight.
a self-care: a “new” anthem
30 days ago i decided to accept a challenge to write a poem everyday for 31 days. it’s promise i kept mostly because i’m ornery and secondly because it gave me a chance to explore my first love – the written word. here i am at the end of the challenge, grateful for the journey and ready to dive in to where this awakening will lead me next.
i don’t get many moments when my kid will stand still. the great pictures i do get share come at high cost as most moms of boys know. they move full steam ahead no cares about what steam you’re at or even if you have steam. they are ready to go!
a gloriously chaotic cacophony called family
i grew up in a gloriously chaotic cacophony of a family. we were huge in number and loud in voice. there was an anonymity to being from such a large group and in that a protection that i now crave as an adult. i use to want peace and quiet when i was a kid, never feeling like i could hear myself think because of all the people. my one true wish each birthday was for quiet. and now that i have silence surrounding me i can honestly say, i can’t stand the noise.
i took my son to a halloween party. i was so taken by the blatant joy of all the little boys in attendance i nearly fell in my chair. i wanted to lock them up in that moment when it seemed nothing could touch them…not even disappointment.
honk if you see the problem
i’ve never been very good at staying quiet. even when i promise my mother and other loved ones that i won’t say anything, it never fails, i say something. i wonder what it would be like to be the person who stays silent, keeps their head down, and holds their thoughts and ideas to themselves. especially in the face of gross neglect, abuse, and inequality i wonder how can they possibly see all this and think ‘it’s not my problem.’
grief is a gift or a sucker punch to the throat (either way)
grief is a gift. there are hours, days, weeks, months when you mistakenly imagine you’ve moved on. that your sadness is dissolved. your loss resolved. your grief complete. and then from nowhere you’ll read a seemingly innocent post from a friend on facebook and it transports you right back in time to another space where your loss is more real, more tangible, than it was only a moment before. the days those moments don’t feel like sucker punches to the throat are the best days.
we can’t keep praying if we’re going to keep lying
it’s stunning how one moment you’re falling to your knees as the radio or television informs you there has been a mass shooting. i don’t know how many prayer vigils we’ve had at this point. how many times we’ve said this is too much. how many times we’ve packaged cards and well wishes and facebook profiles sending condolences to families and communities and cities.
converse girl in a 21st century world
online dating is complete and utter mystery to me. i know way too many people who have had success to know it’s not a hoax and yet…
a new and alien purpose
selfishness is a word that does not compute to a generation raised to see themselves as part of a whole. in households such as these your purpose is to serve the greater good. anything outside of the greater good is sinful and will be examined like a cancer. the idea that you would do something just for you because you wanted it is foreign and frankly disturbing. until you wake up and the others who made up we have gone their own way and you are the only one left holding up the banner of ‘our.’ at that point charting a course for selfish becomes a new and alien purpose.