Thursday, April 28, 2016

8 Years

3 years ago I walked to the park on this date with Moses. Tonight I went with Willem, roughly the same age as Moses had been then. 3 years ago it was warm and I ware an old navy blue knit skirt but tonight the chill cut into me and Willem and I wore our winter coats and hats. Willem climbed the slide structure, laughing, runny nosed, jolly. He slid down backwards on his belly and got off by himself. He bent to kiss me from up there, though he doesn't know how to make the smacking sound and just purses his lips a little and then smiles. Just as I had 3 years ago, tonight I pointed up at the sky and said clouds and he looked and I felt again the wonder of the world. I held Willem as we walked home with 3 books from the little free library box--3 really good books--and then I pointed to the tiny buds of green on the trees and I told him how soon they would unfurl and whoosh, bloom, and he said whoosh and threw his hands up at the sky and the trees.

Today, I left the boys with Ren and a pile of dirt for her garden and went to the coffee shop in Winooski, one of my favorites. I drank my coffee beside the window and read my manuscript through the end and felt the ache of wanting to make it really good, make it beautiful and the fear that it won't ever be good enough or that I won't find the time to really finish it. My biggest fear with this book, my first, is that it won't be as good as I know I can make it because I don't have enough time. I have been teaching myself to write a book these past 6 years, I suppose, while simultaneously learning how to be married and be a mother to these two magical little creatures-- Mo & Will.

It is about the magic though. It is always about the magic. The magic of the work of writing comes when I can hear it singing in my ears as I work and I know I'm onto something, I'm really seeing it and intuiting it and trusting the work. It is this way also with love. We know its magic and we seek it, if we are lucky, if we remember. Even when it feels like drudgery we keep at it because we know that a little sunlight or warmth or coffee or a sweet almond croissant with a gooey middle could turn it all around and we could be in the magic again, in the joy.

This is what my life is made of, what I have built it on... this magic and longing and love of creation, love of the joy I feel in seeing my children and husband and family and friends find the magic and the joy and the love.