signs

Since we've moved here we have seen birds and bugs and fireflies, a garden snake in the asparagus, a luna moth in the middle of the field, a groundhog in our cherry tree, a pair of foxes, and today a pair of hawks. It feels like a welcome. 

pulling up

In order to leave a place with any kind of peace my heart must slowly pull away long before the leave taking happens. I look around the rooms as a stranger. No longer intimate with every inch I hold myself off and aloof. And then a moment happens and the space reaches out and holds me in a tight hold and it chokes me and I am connected with every fibre. The rooms are strange and sterile and yet, for now, we still live here. 

transplanting

Having a sudden pang. Of sadness, regret, the ache that comes with growing up and growing out. We have made a home here. And now we leave it all behind and start again. All over. 

breath like butterflies

There are lists and piles and boxes to pack and sort and stack and move. And then there is this. Eyelash flutters and the softest of breaths on my breastbone. And time stops and there is nothing else in the world. 

like light

One is a firecracker 

The other a firefly

And I

I will dim into darkness

Until I learn

How to balance

Their light

With mine 

And trust that after all

I will not lose my light 

And when the time comes

I will shine 

A constant burn

A star

An anchor 

The way home 

For all of us. 

dinner

I wait until dinner. So I can blame it on the onions. 

ox mama

They talk about birth bringing out the mammal/animal/beast. I have heard women mention wolves, and tigers, and bears. Fierce and strong and feral. 

Birth was three weeks ago, and I was a lion. Today, through the bone-tired, body broken, brain wasting that is post-partum I am still a beast. I put my strength to the plow and push through. I lower my head and plod on. Back and forth, the mind numbing and endless tasks of new motherhood are completed and begun again. I do the work. Ox mama.