Paper

We are coming to the time in Auralia's life where she's beginning to take pride in her accomplishments, and can vocalize or demonstrate that she wants nothing more than our pride in her as well.

She's so funky, this child of ours. A mix of Jeremey and I, so completely and undeniably ours. She seems to have taken bits and pieces of both of us to meld perfectly into Auralia.

My child of hope.

Auralia hands me paper every day. Every hour. Sometimes it seems like every minute. Parts of the day are spent coloring outside the lines, learning the alphabet or recognizing shapes. I draw heads and stick people, elephants and cows, giraffes, mice, barns, moons, bones, moose, and more. My artistic ability is growing by leaps and bounds. And she takes pride in coloring in their eyes, or ears, hair or boogers. She loves to draw boogers. She loves to draw sticks and circles that she calls hearts.

It makes me yearn.

Sometimes the need to express myself is overwhelming. And perhaps Auralia understands this more than most people.

The need to press pencil, pen, paintbrush or crayon to paper can consume me. The urge to tap a keyboard or to stroke piano keys is like a nicotine craving, sharp and serrated. And the urge should be so easy to fulfill.

How is it that these urges, these cravings and needs to express ourselves, that most women feel, get pushed aside? The same way we get so busy that we forget we need to pee, we toss aside our thoughts, feelings, and dreams because we're too busy to listen to ourselves.

Or we're too afraid to.

I want to write. Something that will move people. That will make people yearn, or their hearts swell, stomach's drop, eyes fill.

I want souls to quiver.

Maybe it starts now. Maybe it starts with Auralia holding up a notebook and a crayon to me and saying, "Paper, Mama."

From: Passing the Light. By Chesnay Susan Thomas 1968

i will
dance naked
when i first
learn
to walk...
and there
will be
a rainbow of light
colors
to blind
the binding minds
the closed hearts
of the men and women
who said
"never"
i will not
simply walk
but
fly
with wings of gold
woman
warrior
feeling with a heart
the fineness of the journey
and dancing naked
at the edge of dawn
is the gate
that moves my soul
into the endless
realm
of possibility

Appreciating Anticipation

"We can always do that next year!"

...not so great words for a military family. And probably heard more around the holidays than any other time of year. There is SO much to do around the holidays with family and friends, really cool things to take the baby to, great experiences, great food, and not enough time over holiday weekends to fit it all in. Which is ok... I don't need to overwhelm or overfeed my family too much, because we always have next year to experience it all together. Right?

Well, not so much.

There are not too many things worst or even close to as bad as a deployment, but anticipating a deployment might just be up there on the top of my list. You start thinking about what he's gonna miss...different holidays, birthdays, anniversaries plus the day-to-day drivel that becomes important once your spouse is gone and missing it.

So for the next few weeks we'll recognize and appreciate the memories we're making. Every day. Every moment. Which isn't something that every family takes the opportunity to do. Thinking about how your spouse will most likely be gone for the next Thanksgiving or the next Christmas, and a child's birthday or two, makes every day that you are sharing together a little more appreciable.

A lot bittersweet.

A lot more important.