Blog letters loving music poetry prayer reflections WRITING

journal entry, 10-25-20


The daily anticipation of a person’s energy is hard to put into words, so much so that expressing it even that way isn’t quite right.

Stamina becomes something else during the aging process. Some figure out how to work smarter in less hours, how to appreciate their time against a backdrop of contentedness rather than anxiety, and how to rest against the advice of self-sacrificial vice.

Vantage points don’t really change the atmosphere of promise. Take being a mom for example. No matter what life brings, the nature of that role is to fulfill an unspoken promise, and though it’s largely obligatory, it was first, and always will be, simply a promise to love.

With every baby I had stars in my eyes, and with every baby I see, still they twinkle, but the constellations don’t seem as bright, except when accompanied by his energy. I don’t know why they dimmed in his absence, I only know they did. I could write all day about love, and though I sometimes still do, it’s hardly in our best favor.

What’s important is making sure our heart’s proverbial sky is clear, so our loved ones know our view of them is unattached to the weather. How do you show that? I’m not entirely sure, but it’s part of the reason I love birds and flying. Nothing intended to fly stays forever grounded.


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