Give Your Gift

Let us lean into the uncomfortability. That vulnerability that each of us possess but yet often times do not activate or display. We are afraid of showing each other who we are.

Consider a present you are so excited to give someone. Whether you had to save four months to purchase it, or it took you six weeks to make. Think of that feeling. What if we felt the same way when we give the gift of who we are, to other people? Give your gift, the gift that only you can.

Mind Fluff

I drove to just sit on a back road somewhere outside of town. Different space under my car wheels has the wheels in my head spin differently.

If its your own horn why wouldn’t you toot it?

Do you ever get overwhelmed by your childs’ spine?

What a difference between people that set down their coffee to answer the door and people who bring it with them.

What a raw, beautiful process of development. Curing with time, having the resemblance of loose unconscious patience. We can wait, because we know it will be.

Do you Remember?

Do you forget? Or have etched into your proud skull, the moments of giddy bliss aboard my plane face, when I see camels on television or fuzzy polka dot socks on my feet? You haven’t seen my face for weeks, yet I talk to you everyday. Can we forget the prize of pain? Of what we look like in a castle of vulnerability? The way our conversations shape our faces, the way your eyes search mine for understandings while we sit on the size of couch that is perfect for our bodies. Intertwined. Do we remember how we made the other feel; our purpose in those moments, to lift each other up? Have we forgotten what we are like or forgotten what we were. I think we could, or would not, no matter the time tinkering around with the clock. We could or would not forget, because we don’t want to. And it is easy to see this, while dusk ends and travels of the mind begin.

A Little While

And so it is, with anyone in our lives that stay awhile and go, take something- even if so minuscule. And sometimes when we love them- or even if we don’t- we can hope they took the good. And even if they took the bad, that they will somehow do good with it- if even it is only to understand it.
To be better, having stayed awhile in our life.

9 Years Old

Nine years ago today, I created this blog.
It would only be two months after, I found out I was pregnant.
So This blog Is like my child’s age.
nurtered, fought with and discouraged And encouraged and inspired and up and down and I can’t imagine ever letting go of this blog just like I can’t with my son.

What a journey.

We Could

We could write books on dust or leather.
About magic spells detesting the weather.
Hell,
We could bend light that lands on our feathers
We could plump up our hearts, and make them together.