Hello Long Lost Loves:
It’s been far too long since I’ve last posted. Here, in Davis, CA, it is 110 degrees on the shady pavement. I am making yogurt in front of my house beneath the stroller, and drying pumpkin seeds in the sun. Sora is asleep and Naima is overtired in school.
That said, I must admit to feeling adrift. I’m not working on any applications at the moment, I don’t really have any pressing projects, per se, although I am always working on something. I’m just not working the way I used to: with the madness of hope and desire.
I know I should tell myself that my purpose right now is to raise these kids well. But it’s not. I do not feel like my purpose in life is to be a good mom or even to get published for that matter. Perhaps that is part of the reason I feel unanchored. If anything, I am finding that it takes all my energy to just be, watching the maps blow away down the bike paths, the scaffolding to fall away with the paint.
How do I explain? Somehow I’ve gotten to this place where the best thing I can do for Naima is get out of her way. I’m sure this will change, as all things do, especially quickly concerning Naima.So what if I let her eat frozen unorganic diluted pineapple juice for lunch. Or, run naked through the sprinklers in front of the Beauty Salon. Or stand too close to a tuba.
I’m trying to respect that she is her own being, with her own pain, and bad habits. I mean, it’s hard not to tackle her down and wrestle the bloody booger out of her finger as she attempt to ingest it. But like Dylan said, at least it’s her own.
But, as a person who often desires movement, sometimes even to my own detriment and the detriment of others, “adrift” should be good. Then why does it feel so scary, so lazy and brackish and bad? It feels like this hole in my stomach and sometimes the sadness that comes out of it, like cold air from a mine, sends me to my knees with the shivers.
I am learning about buoyancy and waves in the valley. My children are the sea.