Each Day

each day

.

each day has its own death, birth, redemption

its poetry, its Fall

we die daily

some little disappointment rattling

or some tangled, scrambling fall among thorns

we glimpse a zenith at nightfall

when the moon is brightly midair

or at midday

when we drink cold water from a hose

there is reunion and congregation

woven in and out

a prayer shawl that is wrapped and unwrapped

one strand left loose is pulled

until all is undone

unraveled again in a sleepless pile

we tremble until morning

until resting, we breathe a few moments more

Don't Try This at Home (wherever that is)

I suppose there never is a really good time to move, but we always seem to pick the worst possible times. Suffice to say that we've vowed several times in the last few weeks never to move with a newborn, (we've done it twice), never to move and take on a new pet at the same time, and not to move for a very long time. We've reached our 7th place of residence during our almost 9 years of marriage and we've decided that enough really is enough. I know people move more than we, and do crazier things with more kids - but this is as crazy as I care to get. Being experienced in "move" doesn't really help the pain (of, for example, the thirtieth time in one day, "where is that so-and-so? I thought for sure I packed it in such-an-such a box! I know I saw it laying around here somewhere!), it just makes you think that you'll be better equipped for the realities of this current move - which you are in a sense, but in another, you never can be.

we've been supremely dislocated - from big city and small town suddenly spit out onto a 7-acre piece of country with big trees and garden soil. we flop about with pink, gasping gills, breathless and stupidly try to do 9 years of dream in 2 weeks. we alternate between backing each other down in a corner to take slow breaths and save ourselves from drowning simultaneously in euphoria and despair.

I think of these years, with 2 of our 3 children under two, as the bottleneck years of parenting. time (or the wisdom of older, smarter parents) will tell the true tale, but the thought helps me get through the insanely plentious demands of shaping a gangley-legged lump of clay into the semblance of family. between pre-move, move and post-move there have been a zillion decisions crammed into 6 months and the kind of machine gun-rattle on the brain that creats statements from O such as "I really have no idea who you are anymore!"

all this and at the exact same time there is breathtaking cuteness in your kids, as they wring out and trample upon your sleep-deprived-emotion heart. as your futile attempts to keep your dog from frollicking in the overflowing sewage yet again. you stand in a foreign kitchen watching your daughters giggle with a kitten, their faces lighting up again and again with the intense bursts of light like the fourth of July fireworks and a voice whispers urgently in your brain "hold on! hold on to these moments! these delicate, delicate moments! oh, hold on!"

.

The Other Reason I'm Not Blogging

In Ohio swimming through boxes
floundering in new space
lots of weeds to pull
raspberries to pick
septic systems to dig
etc.

don't lose faith
will blog again

Why I'm Not Blogging

after six weeks of a 5-person family, I think it's finally starting to feel just a tiny bit normal. after about 6 years, we might even start getting the hang of it. until then, we're exhausted and strung out. not to mention we move (again!) in 15 days. hurray for insanity! raising an infant takes alot more consciousness than I prefer. sleep is precious. without it I can hardly run, can hardly think. this must be how young whipper-snappers turn into adults. but all is not lost. O and I are surprised almost daily how much fun it is to have 3 kids - chaos rules!

These Odd Shifting Planes

it's been 9 months since my sister died. for those of you who have lost someone very close, you will not mind that I talk about grief and its process. for those of you who have not, you may wish that I would get on with life, quit belaboring the issue. sometimes i wish that too, but usually I do not. usually I do not mind the twist of the gut when I hear a certain song, or the sudden heavy visceral pressure that comes down whenever I visit my parent's house. and the spinning desperate, falling sensation that dizzys me when I step into Shannon's room.

.

when someone you love closely dies, it is impossible for your consciousness to swallow this in its entirety without collapsing. the moments you try, you feel death closely. most of your waking hours are not filled with a conscious awareness of their gone-ness. it is not real in this sense, reality eludes you. so these moments of realization are welcome, in a way, because the reality of their gone-ness is suddenly within your grasp. you see and feel things as they truly are.

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as the months pass, one over the other, you begin to realize that these odd, shifting planes of reality will become a permanent part of your experience. in some ways, the loss is not blurred and washed away - but becomes more and more vivid.