If you could peek in on us right now, dinner is cooking in the oven and okay I'll admit that by dinner I mean frozen fries, Gray and Ivy are eating salads at the counter, Carter is doing homework at the table, and Noah is reading (or pretending to read- I caught him with the book upside down) on the big chair by me. It's quiet. The music that is usually playing is silent. I have been turning it off in trade for the sound of quiet. Silence has a sound, you know. And for a while, when Ivy fell asleep in the car earlier today, I just sat in the driveway with it running warm and looked out the window and really looked. Not for anything in particular, but just watched.
I had just lunched with a friend and -on a topic totally unrelated actually- about some place she was in and how she had to "lean in to hear", and how that was okay, not a nuisance but a charming comfort. I told her to stop right there and let me think on that for a minute... That's it. It's okay to not have everything served up to our ease. Let me strain. Make me lean in. That means I want to hear. That means it's worth something. Right now I am sifting to find those pebbles that are actually worth any energy I have to offer right now.
We joked, half-heartedly about being one step away from those Wall-E people who travel on motorized Rascals and never look away from their screens. It scares me. I don't need a loud speaker or fancy lights to get you. I don't want the decorations I want your dirt and roots.
I'm sad at my own reflexes- I don't reach out to you or ask how you are doing because I already saw on Facebook. But I am missing out. Yes I do need to reach out. It is not good enough to skim the surface. It is junk food. We can email but it's not your voice like on the phone or your pen scrawl in a card or your knee touching mine on a couch in a coffee shop.
I know this is same old same old. I know this has hidden messages about my spiritual life. I don't make resolutions for the new year anymore, but I definitely have some hopes and baby steps in mind for what I want to happen next.
I bought candy canes today for the tree because they're fun and I found all sorts of flavors and colors at the store (even Star Wars ones) and I think there were like eight boxes and Noah said, at the sight of them all, that it was the best day ever of his life.