It Doesn't Take Much
She Will Not Be Quiet: A (mostly unedited) daily writing practice
Day #158 of (mostly unedited) daily writing/sharing
It Doesn’t Take Much
an unforced smile from a stranger that quiets the loud in me, the young woman at the farmstand who recognizes me even though I have only been there one other time, the barista who gives me an extra shot of espresso for free when I tell him how tired I am, friends sitting side by side sipping summer drinks on 23rd street, a poem jotted down on a sticky note. This poem. This sticky note.
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Those moments! --- joy made palpable, communicable. Those small concelebrations and commiserations that mean the world. I've known them, too. Thank you for this poem.
Day 2, Writing with Julia: Jill's mostly unedited (and new!) 10-minute morning writing practice. (I'm breathing in to it being OK to take up space...)
I suck at parenting. That's how it came out when my partner asked "What's all the tension about?"
Of course it's true and not true at all. My 21-year-old is complex - aren't we all? He is moody without being moody. He's pensive, hard to figure out, and then something unexpected pops out of him and I get a glimpse of the the rich, complex beauty that lies beneath. Child of my womb, born female, now top-less, hairy upper lip, fuzzy chin hair. Still child of my womb, but more unknown to me.
What I really want to know about myself, though, is why I think I suck at parenting? I am anxious, angsty. I see my kids infrequently since I've lived far away the past three years, and I so want the few moments we do have together to be perfect, to be fun, to be memorable, to be better than good.
It reminds me of time with Dad. I understand better what he felt over those years of only seeing my brother and me every other weekend. He wanted our time together to be special, to be the best. OMG what pressure he put on himself! I must have felt it. I know I felt it - the tension and the pressure to make time with Dad better than the best. After all, we had to make up for so much time we couldn't be together. And in the rare times Dad dared to call my house and risk my mom answering the phone, I could feel his longing.
This explains so much. Yes, this angst I carry now in my own way. A way that detracts from time spent with my children and has the opposite effect of what I most hope for! I just want to be present with them! And love on them and chew on their beautiful parts and reflect back to them their beauty and mystery and loveliness. Dear God, help me be present today. Just today. Let's start there.