Monday, March 5, 2007

A deep and gentle sigh of thanks.

Days like today, I feel so fortunate: Enough is the same as a feast.

I woke early, early, prior to the alarm going off in the quiet darkness. My Beloved Mister and child slept soundly, softly snoring that fuzzy wee morning hour peaceful sound I've grown to love and think of as home. I prepared coffee, shuffled about with the creatures who live with us, letting them out and in and puttin out food. Turned on the computer to begin my day of work (work I love passionately and am so grateful for each and every day!) and to center in, and lean into now.

After gentling my boy down with a nursing not long after I originally woke, I returned to work, to happy industriousness. By and by, MBM crept from the bed to tend to laundry and the washing of dishes (we'd let them go last night, after finally being healthy and available for all three of us to visit our favorite Mexican place in celebration of my fortieth birthday). Little feet hit the floor not long after, scooted across the kitchen to Daddy, then to the office for some snuggle time at Mama's desk. And this life, it just felt so right. And the morning preceded apace with work and love and granola and dry diapers and hugs and kisses and building with blocks and music and Tubbies and nursing and plans for meeting Friends to lobby at our representative's office later today.

My husband, my friend, my partner: before trundling out the door and into the world for work, he held us tight and kissed and hugged us and I knew so strongly what home felt like for this little family. I was and am, so glad to be here. The noise in my head settled down, my spirit leaned into now. There are days when this isn't so clear through my muddled thinking and exhaustion and if-wishes-were-horses thinking....

The card my man gave me for my birthday sits here on my desk still.

In the week that preceded my birthday I thought of all the things I haven't yet accomplished: achieving financial sustainability, publishing a book, completing my family, purchasing a home, attaining and maintaining a healthy weight, hiking the Appalachian Trail, unpacking all these blasted boxes of papers and bits of previous lives that line the office walls three deep.... It's been enough some moments for me to give in to minor come-aparts, fits of anxiety and weeping. (Motherhood has removed the luxury of big come-aparts in large part. Thank goodness for that, for the necessitated focus on something other than navel gazing bullshit and unfounded worry.)

So the card, a lovely and simple one that astonished me in its generosity of sentiment, given what I often experience as my man's harshness and holding back. He is Midwestern, afterall. AND of Scandanavian descent. He is a great admirer of the seemingly disparate Bushido code and iconoclastic autonomists. All of which is attractive, baffling, maddening, amusing and in some ways my polar opposite. The best part of this is that when he tells me something, I know he's thought about it in an amazing amount of detail and he holds it as fully True. All of which makes his sign off on the card both a comfort and an excitement. I feel known and loved and supported just as I am in all my fallible wonder when I read: "I know you're not where you thought you'd be... but I'm glad you're here with me."

Me too, Babe. Thank you for helping me find the multi-tiered levels of home I've been looking for since always. Thank you very very much.

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