19 August 2019
11 August 2019
i have so much i want to write. what came after june days in utah (california, ordinary days passing like honeyed melodies). what came before (london, paris, weeks of rain, his golden tufts of hair rolling like fog into impossible curls). days and nights, i am inextricable, indistinguishable, from boy, happily, purposefully, tending, chasing, sharing sunmilk and moonmilk, marveling at the miracle of everything he does, giving thanks with every exhalation. and so i don't get much written, but i am ever etching into memory and soul, and his presence makes what i do write sacred. his presence, along with his father's, is everything i ever want to write.
here is an hour among hours i loved and i love: it was just after breakfast and just before nap, and we stepped into air thick with the promise of rain to walk amongst lush ferns and riotous balloons of french hydrangeas. he darted this way and that, eager and curious, noticing sticks and rocks and far-off dogs, wholly immersed in the universe he is in. every day, he is breaking my heart. he greets flowers by name and blesses every sneeze and sings his way through the market or anyplace. his vocabulary is flourishing (alpaca! hydrangea! elbow! rain!) and he pretends to chat on the telephone. he calls his animals, wooden or fur, "babies" and he pauses daring but cautious explorations every few steps to climb into my arms, as though he's a bird flown back to his tree.
august of another summer. another day. another week. more words. more growth. more love. more love. more love.
05 August 2019
these days were so gentle with me. walks with the rising sun, receiving her offerings. lungfuls of air, light and cold, spiced with wildflowers and spruce, juniper and pine. the sounds i heard: water on rock, a houseful, soft words, mother words, laughter and wise counsel, birdsong, deep breaths, my baby's glee at the tickle of blue sage, my own pulse with a hum. tucking six sunshine-haired ducklings into their beds and staying up late to volley thoughts on vegetable gardens and the cosmos, the intricacies of faith. i reach for the words to account for our june days in utah, and i reach and i reach. how to write about days lived amongst my womenfolk, climbing mountains and chasing babies?
these days were about recharging in the great space of summertime in the desert.