I'm bloggin.Didn't think I'd be out here. Didn't think it. And here I am.
Just in from the cold, nightly ritual. Tuck the girls in, wait for them to come out. Tuck the girls in again, wait for them to come out. Threaten to turn off the lights if the door opens again. Tuck the girls in again ... pull blankets to chins, kiss cheeks, linger at the door lovin on the look of sleepy peace, turn out the light and punch the clock. Off duty. Check pockets three times for apartment keys - feel the keys, see the keys, hold the keys as I walk out onto porch. Do not, do not, DO NOT lock self out with children sleeping inside. Smoke half a camel light until I dislike the cold more than I like cigarettes. Blow warm breath into brittle fingers. Settle into the computer.*
*computer settleing replaces the previously favored: pour deep glass of red, refill generously.
Free-range Josie changes everything in a space where everything has changed. Making a major transition anyway, might as well move the little one from the crib to a big bed becuase why keep anything easier than it could be? Josie is my quiet child. The one who naps and builds and sometimes stops moving. And Josie has found her first love, free will. My babies found their voices quickly and joyfully raised them in dissent.
The baby, 23 months, says: "Let's go see Mama, Amma. Come on. Lets go out and get her in the living room."
Big sister laughs and knocks the door into the wall.
In my dream they are 20-something, themselvles carried upright into adulthood by uncomprimising spirits, unconcerned with appearances. Fearless Free Spirits. Powerful women. Wide awake I want to firebomb all that independence and bury the ashes in ice. If only I could pause a few of my favorite qualities for the next couple decades and restore them while we're unpacking dorm rooms. It's all there, raw and unformed. Unapologetic. My job deliver thier spirits whole as they grow. Oy.
Got to have the council of women and last weekend circled round .... Thank you, Jennifer Lauck. Thank you, Carrie. Thank you, Jess. Thank you, Jerri. Thank you, Oshanna. Thank you, Theresa. Thank you, Andrea. Thank you, Prema. Learned life. Learned me. Learned words. And realize, finally, learning myself is learning writing. Turns out it wasn't writing I been affraid of so long, it was me. Go figure.
So I'm here with my thoughts. Mind in my body. Fingers on the keys. Small piece of Quorn chicken stuck the roof of my mouthing making me insane.
Twenty three minutes into Thursday.
Welcome to the blogsphere, Holly. You and your writing are going to turn the joint on its ear!!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post. Your mind and heart are amazing places to explore and you do it with such fierce elegance. A treat to read.
Please, ma'am. May we have some more?
Holly, this is FANTASTIC! I am with you on the cold porch smoking that Camel. I am with you as you discover you are afraid of you, not writing. I am with you as you put those girls back to bed, over and over again and punch the clock. Beautiful writing, beautiful you!
ReplyDeleteLOve it. Love it. So great to see you here, Holly. Let this be your companion as you find your way home.
ReplyDeleteThat was a beautiful post, I'm so glad you have a blog now, so glad I get to keep reading you. I look forward to meeting those girls, and to doing more writing together sometime soon.
ReplyDeleteOh, my god, look at my first comment! so funny to read. So great to read this post again knowing you so well and knowing those two independent-minded, dissenting, free-will-loving, beautiful girls. I can picture this entire post so entirely and clearly, can hear Josie's voice. I love how you write about them here.
ReplyDeleteI love that we are both still here, but there's something sweet about these first posts (mine and yours).
God, I'm being sentimental again!! Sorry. :)