I'm having trouble finding the stillness. I am surviving on scraps. I grasp pieces when I pick up the camera, in the too few chances I have to sit down to write.
In the latte I can't afford but I snuck out to get anyway this morning.
Waking at four a.m. because that might be the only quiet I get for another twenty-four hours. Or more. And still my soundtrack is the soft hum of the baby monitor.
And what's left in the crumbs of my stolen moments I'm reminded that I can nurse a baby, write a lunch money check, sign a field trip form, find a favorite shirt (right there! in the drawer where I said it was!), fill cups of orange juice, and practice spelling words all at the same time.
But I can't lead myself to the still waters.
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