I have been quiet lately, a time of reflection away from the written word, for the most part. My morning pages have fallen silent, my poetry - few stanzas, few and far between.
My little boy, Sam, calls the craggy, rising slopes of the Kern Canyon "Winter" - that is sort of how I feel. Quiet, contemplative, waiting.
It seems contrary to Summer - which is what I am in right now, with my children - home for their Summer Vacation. Today, day #2 of what feels like an interminable number of days... feels like I won't make it through. Emma is on an emotional rampage, Sam is destructo boy and even Sweet Katherine is barely tolerating it.
I long for my pencil and notebook, yet when I find them - my hand stills, becomes silent and immobile.
I would like to wait, perched in a moment of time, withought cause or concern, like Emma did, when we were in Dana Point for John's Celebration of Life.
Mostly, I want to rest and cuddle my words into fruition. Hushed, loving, grace-filled words.