Deep Thoughts

I have found the most beautiful blog...at least I think so. I shall not recommend it to anyone, as I stumbled upon it through a blog that I found through a blog...you know how it goes the old "friend of a friend of a friend" sort of thing.

This woman is absolutely amazing in her writing...she can capture the intangible and make you feel and see it...I sit here right now, wishing, hoping that I could write that well. That I could write at all. That I could even harness all the thoughts and emotions and ideas and people and events that are clamoring inside my brain to be let out and put on paper (or a flash drive somewhere I suppose)...

I am envious, not of her situation, which brings out such aching emotions, or of her past, which allows her to see things through that particular and specific set of lenses that those of us who haven't been there can never imagine using.

I would never wish to have experienced the things she has, as I've had my own set of issues and decisions which have shaped me to be the person you see before you today.

But somehow, deep down in my heart of hearts, I pray furtively that I would somehow find the way to see things that way, and to be able to take what I see and feel and experience and put it down in black and white and share with others.

I have aspirations. Dreams that someday I'll be able to do it, and it will be published. And then, I'll be in the line at a store or restaurant, and I'll overhear someone say "Have you seen that book by ______? Isn't it absolutely _____?" And it won't matter if they love it or hate it. It will only matter that they've heard of it, seen it, and most importantly, picked it up and read it. That somehow, something in what they heard about it, and then when they saw the cover on the stand, that they were moved to pick it up, purchase it, check it out from the library, and then read it.

Right now, ensconced in my world of wiping noses, tying shoes, holding hands, answering questions, reading "Goodnight Moon" for the 100th time, cutting up apples and hot dogs, and saying "Finish your meat before you get more carrots", it seems impossible that these thoughts will still be there when I finally have the chance to sit down long enough to harness them, and beyond that, to not be doing something else, like ironing, or folding clean clothes, to take them from the file in my brain and put them down somewhere. It seems as though, I will never be anything other than an invisible person, only a pair of hands, a cloth to be wiped upon, a climbing aid, a first-aid dispenser, a vending machine for food and snacks and drinks, a pillow to sleep on...

I envy this woman that her life is where it is, and while I know that is suffering and hurting in this part of her journey, I wish that I could make everything seem as deep and meaningful and profound as she does.

For now, I shall wait, not patiently, sometimes straining against the limits imposed on me by my life situation, but with the knowledge that what I am doing every day in real life is indeed profound, and deep and meaningful, and that what I do matters.

When I sit, this afternoon, in the silence, while the children are napping, folding clean clothes, and ironing BB's shirts, I will think about what to cook for dinner, and will straighten the house, vacuum the carpet, sweep the hardwood, pick up the toys again, and sit down to breathe slowly, and physically rest, my mind will whirl around and I'll smile softly, thinking about the day when I'll be wishing for the pounding of feet through the house, the cries of "Mommy! More apple juice please!", and the noses to be wiped, and diapers to be changed, and stories to be read with warm little bodies snuggled up against mine in the rocking chair...and at that time, when I can put those emotions and ideas into words, they will most likely be that wishing for what has passed.