It is very easy, I think, to give a dark seed a warm place to grow in your heart. It is easy to despair and curl up and stuff yourself full of pie and pity and a heavy, heavy dose of fuck it all.
It is very easy to forget the things that give you the most joy and just get lost.
I feel I have been a little lost.
I write stories in my head that I have neither the patience nor the focus to get onto paper. I stare at running shoes in my closet, sigh, and sit back down. I say, "Later, later," to my children and later never comes.
I cancel plans.
I ignore the phone.
I break promises.
And then little hands grab at me and small mouths kiss me and my stupid dog lays her old face next to mine and all of these things say, 'Get up.' My husband reaches across the car and holds my hand on the way to church, and the priest says something that cuts right to my heart and a friend sends me a text to tell me I'm loved. And all of these things happen for no reason, while I sit in my darkness and stew in my juices. All of these things say, 'Get up,' so I do.
There are stories to be written and clothes to be washed and books to be read and games to be played. There are races to be run.
Julia is asleep on the little bed on the floor next to me. I can hear her soft breathing, mixed with that of the dog. Earlier, I watched Katie walk three doors down to spend the night with a friend, wearing nearly every piece of Christmas clothing she received. She turned and waved and blew me a kiss before she walked through their gate. She knew I'd be watching. Within the hour, I expect to hear Henry's bare feet pad down the hall and into our room. He will crawl into our bed without a word and throw his arm around my neck and close his eyes. And while they sleep, they know I am here. Their easy breaths say the same thing, speaking in symphony with my heart, telling me - Get up.