I'm weepy and over tired and yet I looked inside my fridge this morning, as it overflowed with good food for my family, and the boys' new shoes, and I have so much. How could I be so sad? I'm just run down, it's all okay, really.
A bag of noodles sat at the bottom of the basement steps all day. It tumbled from the pantry down the stairs when I put away groceries this morning and every time I passed I had my hands full of laundry and meant to come back down to pick it up but something else always filled my arms, until this evening, I saw it again like it was the first time even though I'd passed it all day long. And I put it away.
Since I have been on a break from freelance writing, my jaw has been loosening its clench, and the ground feels a little more solid. Noah asked me late if I had a lot of work to do on the computer tomorrow and I said no, I am not working so I can be here more. Whatever and wherever "here" is, for me right now, it has so many meanings. I can't get these words by Sylvia Plath out of my mind, they splintered me when I came across them again:
"Sometimes I dream of a tree, and the tree is my life.
One branch is the man I shall marry, and leaves my children.
Another branch is my future as a writer and each leaf is a poem.
Another branch is a glittering academic career.
But as I sit there trying to choose,
The leaves begin to turn brown and blow away
Until the tree is absolutely bare."
-The Tree of Life, Sylvia Plath
I laundered a sparkly tulle princess dress today, on delicate, because it just wasn't made to be worn on the toilet.