Yes and but
stream of consciousness practice #38
Yes and but
to someone saying we have no control over how people
perceive us and our work
-
The days fold in on themselves until they disappear. I only just now realized it was the middle of june because I saw people with their summer clothes on. Shorts, flip flops, sun dresses, tank tops. I’ve been wearing the same version of an outfit for what feels like everyday since i got back from the hospital. big tshirt, yoga pants, tennis shoes with holes in them that need to be replaced, probably from all the walking i did when i was pregnant. pregnant shoes. the ones that held my weight as i tried to power walk. i couldnt walk very fast at all though. slow down i would tell my sister. my pregnant shoes. where i would think and think and think how am i going to give birth. i would walk miles and miles in them, training my brain to relax, letting out the pregnancy rage, the anxiety, the sadness, the fear, the grief. how many miles later, i dont know, they have holes in them. i only noticed after i gave birth, probably because i could see my feet again.
The days are so filled it is hard to remember to stay present sometimes. But not just present, but amos- sized present. The days are filled with big grownup conversations and decisions and we are moving from the house to the car to the office to errands to work to home, it feels like we are up top, taller than he is, existing, that when i look down i realize he is lost in his own baby world. I remember to slow down and stay present with him. I crawl down to his level, lay with him, slow my heart, look at his hands with him. the seconds slow down as we look at each finger, as he takes 10 seconds to turn his hand over, inspecting every crevice of it, realizing its his own. I show him my hands and he turns down the seconds of my life as well, slowly grabbing each finger to study it. The world is so grand it doesnt exist when i get down to amos’s level. It is irrelevant to the microscopic lens we are looking at our hands with. The only thing that exists is whats directly in front of him. Maybe thats why he laughs when things come floating toward him out of his peripherals, to him I have conjured it into thin air. I am in Amosland. Where the babbles are nonstop, mamamama?, the hands wont stop reaching, for my hair, for my glasses, my mouth, daddys nose, gordys paws, gordys toys, scratchy scratchy, and now this other thing, not an opening and closing of the hand, but an opening and closing like a pincher grasp maybe. Amosland, where he is always trying to escape, run off to the next adventure.
We have been taking early car rides for amos lately. 5 am, 6 am, 8 am. The city is nice when its asleep. We watch the sun come up through the trees, watch the rain wash off the city. My eyes are still sleepy, amos is asleep, i sip my coffee look over at the other cars. A couple talking at a red light, coffee in hand. Another car there is someone alone, listening to music maybe, sunglasses on. Green light. We keep driving, the faces blur past me, I turn my focus on the trees passing us, and the houses as they get bigger and bigger. This is our new normal. For now. For the time being. Our routines change as amos grows, and we build our life around to fit his needs. “make your child fit in your life not the other way around.” yes and but. sometimes, realistically, we rearrange our lives for the childs needs. for our sanity. I sit in the car while hayden runs into whole foods. I watch a girl leisurely look at plants and flowers. I cannot remember the last time i did that. No anxiety, no pressure, just time to wonder which one should i buy… which one is priced best.
A curious question, what were you like when you were little? I thought of you and thought you would like this drink when i went to the store, here let me help, washing clothes, washing dishes, dont worry about it i’ll pay for this, a touch on the back, a facetime call, an invitation, a holding of hands, will you watch this movie with me?, “i was thinking about you today”, maybe these are all ways we love someone, ways we show it. sitting with someone. a yielding, a giving, a listening, a sacrifice, a choice, an act. love is an action. Its the center of everything. If we have to ask, its because its so obscured in everything, so hidden, or maybe we have all forgotten about love. have we? we have all gotten too smart, to intellectualized, too individual, too hurt to remember that love is pain, meaning, love is not the absence of pain but rather, the only thing that can heal pain, the only thing that can live alongside pain. pain is inevitable as humans, in this life in this world. love is the humble thing. the one that takes courage. But i dont want to say too much about love. I dont want to define it for you, or I. Dont want to give it limits and borders, it lives freely, like the ocean.
amos is 7 months. 7 months already, how can it be? how can it be 7 months of time eating itself? maybe thats why it feels like only a few months have passed, soon it will be a year and years and when does time stop folding in? in old age? is that when we unfold the years, like pages and get to read them? the words are not here tonight. inspiration did not find me working, i dont think i worked long enough today for inspiration. although its there tingling in the back of my head. i want to access it but i need time. another day another day. there is something there that wants to be said. wants to be seen. wants to be shown. when was the last time you ran down the middle of the street at night? what about rolling the windows down and letting your hand catch the wind? or jump and scream and dance to your favorite song? is that joy or is that love? when was the last time you picked up a penny on the ground for good luck? when was the last time you believed in yourself?
love is a mixtape, a song written about you, a dream someone had of you. We are in the car again. It is raining again. I see hayden’s eyes in the rearview mirror. The first thing i fell in love with. He’s smiling at me. (the second thing i fell in love with) It’s way too early. We are talking about music again. I am listening to him talk about theories, and they are interesting, or maybe he is interesting, or maybe i love him, or maybe its all of the above. I zone out for a second, look at amos sleeping, look at the rain splattering on the windows. I cannot describe this level of comfort. I am home. The city has not woken up yet. It’s hitting one final snooze on the clock. Isadora plays. Love does not think, it feels.
