Circling the grocery store on a Saturday night well past supper time
Searching for something they don’t have in this place I could do without
A yard piece of tape stuck to the bottom of my shoe
Sticking to the floor, slowing me down
I realize they told me so.
Somewhere in these years when I was half asleep I stopped knowing everything.
had one of those weekends where i just didn’t feel up to the task.
Day passed much like any other
Wearing the same clothes, eating the same food and
Saying the same things.
Between the dark clouds the sun shone through and
Dark came early in the constancy of November.
our novembers are always the same. the cartwheel of lessons, visits and traditions. it’s nice to have this rhythm.
My children are young. The eldest is slowly getting less young. He is learning to reading the faces of the adults around him and see inside their heads. Because that is what we do as adults. We read a situation from social cues, key words, wrinkled brows.
The questions our growing children ask us can make us knee jerk reactionaries or it can make us better people. We can provide context and hopefully a portal in to their hearts. To know that all human suffering is our suffering. That the question of how changes to why. That fear is a hateful master.
Growing children can read fear and follow us down that path. Where their world gets smaller and smaller and they grow up scared. It is a big, beautiful world out there and I don’t want to teach my children to push it away.