Quiet, quiet

I couldn’t say it here. Not over and over and over again and again. The twisting, ugly fears over money, the way it polluted everything, the way I was questioning my mothering, losing my sense of self, dismissing my worth. The hours I spent applying for jobs I didn’t really want or didn’t believe I would get. The distraction. The obsession.

But now I am scheduled for eleven hours a weekend at a local coffeeshop, one at which I already know how to do most things. And editing work is becoming more plentiful. And I will still have the farm this summer (the farm! soil and green sprouts and so many lovely vegetables after a winter of potatoes and onions and squash and frozen broccoli). The relief is delicious.

So I can return to a little boy who learns new words every day and climbs onto everything and eats and giggles and makes his desires and demands known oh so insistently. I can feel a little less guilty over my plans to knit hats for so many mamas-to-be in my life and to sew quilts for my family. There has been too much black tea and an insistent cold this month. There has been an effort to keep tidy, to wipe down the surfaces with vinegar and lemon juice, to keep the sink empty of endless dishes, to sweep when I can. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. An effort, too, to not mind that it is not, cannot be, perfect. There has been the desire, if not always the time, to read a bit more. Slipping on ice, but keeping upright. Pots of oatmeal. Cultivating love when sometimes it’s been harder than I like. Wondering if my fingers and waist and face will always be this slender, my rings always this loose, or only until the baby/toddler/boy weans. Not enough hair brushing. Not enough hot showers. Too much time wasted figuring out what I want to do with my precious time. A new (free) phone. A new (carefully chosen, purchased with credit card points and borrowed funds) laptop to replace the dying one. Not enough living in the moment, no matter how I try.

Here’s to appreciating the end of winter. Here’s to loving it for what it is.