Monday, June 6

slow stitches






Moments for stitching. Found in the car, next to the tub, during nap time, outside on a blanket, my legs framing Jasper. Sewing out all my feelings. Freeing my colors. It is the one outlet that has really blossomed since the babies came and the words dried up. The smooth needle in my fingers and something forming under my hands, the satisfying tug of the thread. The ability to stop at a moment and pick up during the next pause.








It all adds up. An inch of work matters. All these little things we do over and over each day makes itself into something worthwhile and beautiful.








Saturday, June 4

jasper, the first days. film.














The first time I saw him, warm from my body, in the dim light over the birth pool, time stopped. There will always be that moment.

Thursday, June 2

continuing.



The words are still here, swept inside of the busy days, but I feel them less neccessary. Or maybe myself less able, with less time, and so I let them go. Let go of the effort. Sometimes I sorrow and wish I had the sentences, the links of paragraphs, the capture and the proof of these days. Something to hold onto when I am old and this is all over. Is life ever long enough to really be here? To really be here, in every moment, which is the only one we ever have.





I spend time in bed, nursing Jasper close to me with his hot little hand on my skin, half in memories of the day and half trying to get fully what is happening right then, so in the morning it's not a memory I'm trying to relive because I didn't soak it in the first time. Just being and seeing and sorting and managing takes all of myself.




A struggle every day to not run from the moment into a book or a phone screen or the nutella jar. Just to be there, to figure it out, to let it flow over me; the moment in all its frustrations and beauty and challenge. To find the silver lining. To do my best. To feel the ecstasy and also to pick up the shards when I fail myself.




Holding Jasper's heavy honey velvet body as he sleeps and nourishing him solely at my breast. Holding the lankiness of Cedar, seeing his face thin and his mind develop. Knowing always, that today is the youngest we will ever be.