Firing up the Canon

I've learned that if you can just appreciate people for whatever they offer you rather than expecting everyone to be everything - life becomes filled with a lot more gratitude and a lot less disappointment. Every person has something to offer.

“I
 got a rock between my heart and my mouth / I know how it got there but I can’t pull it 
out and the bones that once moved my fingers over keys / are protesting in a fist on my
 knees / Gotta find a way to unzip my skin cos this is a stranger’s I’m living in” – Miss Higgins, Set me on Fire. I haven’t written in months…or if we want to be completely honest…years. My words have been trapped somewhere inside of myself. Sinking deep below my skin before they ever find their way out. I lost a sense of purpose for them. Couldn’t get beyond my head to write. I have quite literally felt like a stranger in my body and my mind. Trapped by something unreasonable. Something I don’t understand. I expressed my disappointment in this to a friend…and in conversation a chain of understanding presented itself.  I haven’t quite figured out how to get beyond it. But here I am taking a first step - a step bigger than I’ve made on my own. All because of a reflection of myself ...

A small tornado of debris swelled around my feet. Even the leaves were tempting me to stumble. But I turned my back on the breeze and buckled hard at the knees. Self-grounded is better than drifting out of control.

Jaiden, It could have been just yesterday they held you up for me to see One giant breath and then a newborn scream And I let your tiny hand wrap around my mine For the first time. So small and we shared you with all – morning, noon and night Moms a-glow for their baby girl and all she offered to the world Each sound and move something huge to celebrate For the first time. Lying awake to gaze at you sleeping - hours into the night Waiting for the moment your eyes would open or hunger would strike Happy to be missing out on sleep For the first time. So eager to offer you solid food Lift the spoon and watch your eyes go bright Cereal soupy and sweet potato from a jar For the first time. And the day you were able to tip the cup back on your lip Sipping water like we did And we all laughed at just how bright you really were For the first time. The strong, independent lift of your head Mickey Mouse Playhouse, giggles and gasps The ...

Sometimes the past blows in with the breeze. Just the other day while pumping gas I found myself sitting at a table in my safety town class. The air heavy with humidity and the waxy scent of crayon. The sky bright and the breeze heavy. My cotton dress just short of stopping my legs from sticking to the chair underneath me. Then, running outside. Remembering to the point of feeling the pride I had saddling up on the small tricycle I used to navigate the black pavement, around the cones. Carefree and safe and under the sun. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Oh, to feel that safe again.

You slipped away sometime between a dream and a nightmare. I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar hollow, rolled over and cradled the home we had made together. And then it all felt different. I couldn’t look people in the eye. I couldn’t feel you inside. Goodbye silently began before the first drop of loss. And yet I still carried you with me and prayed you’d stay. But not this way. Not without a heartbeat. Not without a chance. And if I did something wrong, I’m sorry. I loved you from a place deeper within me than where you began. I imagined your sweet face, the soft of your feet, the warmth of your tiny breaths. And I lost mine when you faded back inside. You are the piece of me that died. The heartache I cannot hide. Baby mine.