Momoirs

2009-01-04T10:58:00.000-08:00

Seperate.

From the moment we are born, we begin our seperation from our parents and trade it

for our unique existence.

A frustrated child, a frustrated parent butting heads constantly is, simply put: separation.
The child wants to be and the parent wants the child to be: a part of them forever.

I realized there was a time when the world was mine and then it became the world and I was just in it.

For me it is like the sting from a slowly ripped off band aid and it hurts everytime.

Put your head back in the fucking grass

2008-07-30T08:43:00.001-07:00

goddammit...
forget about the bugs
remember the freedom as a child?

No worries.
put your head down

The Spoon in the SInk

2008-07-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

The Spoon in the sink
says "Heidi"

Makes me sad

feel so bad

in the moment I realized
it was her spoon

Then

I dried it-the thought and the spoon

and went about

my way

Glass Shard Tear

2008-05-16T04:59:00.001-07:00

I looked,
I saw a clear glass shard on Ashton's cheek
I looked
again
it was a tear
at first glance it was asymetrical
and sworn I could have
it was glass

for a child, tears do cut
their emotions are raw

...and I felt the rawness of his sadness
when I saw the glass,
I knew he was hurt.

Never Put Away the Bear.

2008-04-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

Quietly, Sara the Bear, the classic black teddy bear
lies on the floor
a part of the larger chaos that was today
a menagerie of toys and loving, fun acts.

She instantly reminds me of my sweet Ashton's
innocence
as I pick her up, in my tidy-up mode.

I stop at this hard feeling of both good and bad
beautiful because it's here, bad because it will leave

and I sit Sara the bear on the couch
like she should be
a part of my decor
a big part of my home.

I never want to put her away!

More Precious Than The Porcelin Doll

2008-04-01T09:56:00.000-07:00

I haven't heard her classic, music box song in years.
Mia found her, on the window sill.

I wound her up and remembered the very act of turning the key, brings on a swelling of hot tears.

There in our rocking chair, we rock, Mia and I, both watching the doll dance her circle and tell us her playful, doll song.

A sad song now, for me, as I can only remember and hold onto this as it was once but a lullabye for two little girls over 20 years ago. Two little girls, Heidi and Celeste, would be tucked into their bunk bed, prayers spoken, kissed good night.
Daddy wound the porcelin doll, his ever calm presence left the room and our eyes would watch her dance, her music entertain our quieting minds. As she slows, her notes get further and further apart as our good night is here.

Two little girls lay in the singing sounds of the doll.

Daddy leaves the room with warm thoughts of how precious they both are, but knows this song will end as his little precious "dolls" will find their own way, out of the room, out of the house, out of the range of the dolls song and the doll will sit...still and quiet.

I know now what it feels like to be there, in that bittersweet moment, your children under your wing, hoping that these moments of peace could last forever. We love innocence.

The doll can only sing so long and she will then rest as a symbol of the past. She is my past, now my present and soon my future. I will see her on a window sill in Mia's home, perhaps in her nursery, maybe even dancing as she rocks her baby in the sounds of so many memories. For this, I hear the doll's song as sad, for Daddy who knew the time was coming, for me who's heart can break at the thought of not hearing the doll and for Daddy who lovingly silenced his sadness and for the future when I watch Mia and know her heart will be broken too.

Poor Daddy. More precious than anything, his little girls are gone. No more tucking us in, in the cute little girl's room. The doll is gone. He has nothing to wind. He goes to bed with only memories of little girls teenie tiny voices saying "goodnight Daddy. I love you!"

It hurts to let go of even a day as your children grow and find their own way.

but we must, so we can hear them sing their own beautiful song...

and that makes me happy (& Daddy happy too).

Eyelids & Magic Bugs

2008-02-28T12:49:00.000-08:00

It made me smile to sit at my kitchen window and drown myself in the sun.
I told myself, now would be a suberb time to meditate on the warmth.
So I relaxed and looked at the backs of my eyelids-a bright and warm shade of red.
If I looked hard enough I would see floating speckles, little moving lights of irridescence.
I followed the speckles back to my child life. I would sit and look at the back of my eyelids as a very young girl, obeserving and wondering what these speckles were in my eyes. At first I imagined them to be some kind of magical bug, there to amuse me in my meditation. They would come at me from a distance and then pass out of sight. I sat for who know's how long, discovering this world of magic bugs. Quietly and putting all else out of mind.

I know now that those moments were embedded into my memory bank, filed away under "Your Children". I can say for sure and with much certainty that I cannot disregard my children as being unperceptive. What a child sees is truly amazing and truly present.

Good Old Balloons

2008-02-06T11:51:00.000-08:00

We've created this miserably materialistic society.
Children glance at their balloon bouquet and reach for the real present.
Only my baby, glanced up into the air and found something absolutely fascinating!
True cheer was found in good old balloons, floating, brilliant creation
and appreciation was shown in the eyes of Mia.
Ashton also, in his spirited ways, finds joy in these perfect examples of
physics made easy for kids.

Maybe adulthood says, balloons, they are beautiful on the outside, but inside they are nothing?
We will always tire of materials.
We will always look for something that has more.
Eventually we will return to finding the excitement in balloons.

Mother witnessed by Celeste

2008-02-05T11:33:00.000-08:00

Goo Goo to Coo Coo.

Goo Goo.

So sweet the beauty and innocence of my babies.
Nothing is comparable in this world to this sort of love

Coo Coo

Sleep is thick like a triple layer chocolate cake, there
but it will take time to feel full