I can have it all
Now I’m dancing for my life”
What’s funny, to me, is that I barely had the right inspiration to write this post, until I had the inspiration to write this post. You know how it goes. The right feeling or a thought caught on a breeze in the garden. Then the right song at the right time, which is sometimes one of the two “everything is gonna be all right” type of songs by Bob Marley, which I TOTALLY confused in my last post. And that’s ok. “Three Little Birds” and “No Woman, No Cry” aren’t that far off from one another, are they? And they’re not that far off from anything, really. This post is about feelings. And you know me with my macro feelings and micro feelings and microbursts of inspiration, that are not unlike their tornado counterparts. They come in, swirl things around, put things upside down and right side up. Leave things just so. Feelings change by the day, hour, minute.
Maybe even split second feelings. I’ve got you covered about feelings. And I am all about the changing of the feelings and the changing of the tides and the seasons, because lately, or always, we’re all strapped in for a bumpy and wild ride. I think we signed up for this; signed, sealed, delivered. Sometimes it’s too fast and too much, and waves right on top of one another.
Sometimes it’s smooth sailing. And, sometimes the feelings mismatch the world around us, as I write about quite a bit. And sometimes they’re a matched pair; the feelings and the world. Or the world(s). These worlds, spinning with each other, around each other, and every which way.
I found myself a little sleepless this week, in weird dreams and heat dazes, about Des turning nine-years-old on Sunday, on the same day that Rider will turn eight-months-old. 9 years and 8 months. I used to be terrible with impending birthdays and milestones, and I used to be a lot more than slightly sleepless and slightly sweaty about it. (try saying that five times fast) The middle of the night feelings can be tense, and delicious too. And these days I factor in the late night/early morning nursing sessions, the during/post pandemic world, the padding through the new home renovation to curl up for a few with my youngest, watching him grin up in bed, before shuffling back for more sleep to dream. Sometimes, these days, there are house guests.
But a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide
Deep inside your mind”
What a feeling to wait for what’s coming later today. This weekend, we will have a few friends, and more than a few relatives here. Three very close relatives will meet Rider for the first time.
What a feeling to bite into a sun-warmed and sun-ripened strawberry, fresh from our garden. It makes everything else melt away, like that some of the berries have squirrel bite marks. Argh!
And what a feeling to pick a fresh strawberry, and hear that satisfying snapping sound, to then remove the stem, and to have his chubby hands reach out for a berry to shove into his mouth.
And when I pick him up, berry juice stains and all, and his strong seven-months-old, delicious, squirming, huggy, wiggly body melts into my shoulder or neck, for just a perfect minute.
What a feeling, when I pick up Scarlet from school and see her head to toe in rainbows, and then I gesture to myself, also head to toe in rainbows. We meet in the middle of the heinous car line, and cross, and I like to think of all the hapless souls in the car line – getting a smile out of it.
What a feeling when we go to bed at the same time, which happens more and more these days, or we wake up from couch slumber and we go upstairs together. I love to crawl into cool sheets, reach for his warm skin, and settle into a dreaming sleep. King-sized beds are big; not too big.
Close my eyes, feel the rhythm
Wrap around, take a hold of my heart”
What a feeling to hide a romantic card in Cassidy’s luggage before his first time away in over a year and a half, and also what a feeling when he surprises me with my favorite ever cookies.
And what a feeling when Lucy crawls into bed at random parts of the middle of the nights and the middle of the mornings. I love her soft head, even the way she shoves me to edge of bed.
What a feeling to have hot coffee with cream, maple syrup, and a dollop of whipped cream. And maybe even when I pour a little half and half on my Cheerios. Clearly I have a dairy problem.
What a feeling, around 8-9pm every night, to go into three bedrooms, and kiss three heads. Fully awake, partly awake, and fully asleep, in age order. And what a feeling to tiptoe over new hardwood floors, across the home renovation and back into living room, after three head kisses.
What a feeling, when dreaming up my list of the good feelings in one week, and not even the landscape of life, that my fingers could not type the words fast enough. To describe the millions of macro feelings and micro feelings and split second feelings and complicated feelings too.
Close my eyes, I am rhythm
In a flash, it takes hold of my heart”