The house is quiet. Two of my people are out holiday shopping, and the third fell asleep early on the couch, his freshly showered hair spiking out at odd angles from underneath a comforter. Quiet reminds me of what I loved about the early days of motherhood. The frequent naps, the husband gone for the day to work, the not-yet-developed-fully child voices squeaking and cooing, the needs plentiful but so many of them purely physical. The questions and the observations were not personal then.
The constant banter of teens, I worry, is not so compatible with the introverted mother. And yet to say, "let me be" when so very soon they will do just that seems ungrateful. Yes, yes, be careful what you wish for.
So Profane Tmesis has been vexing me with his lack of a comment system, so I'm just going to go ahead and pick his piece this week and see what he does about that.
I wake up with a sack over my head. He reminds me of my actions. I would remind him of his, if I could talk. He explains how easy it is to find privacy in a Stasi holding station. How securely the room is soundproofed.
Fair enough; I deserve to die and he deserves to kill me.
As it is, the muck who tied me up happens to be the gambler we turned. As it is, they picked me up on a drug run. Paralyzing agent. Flavorless with coffee. He should have known not to turn his back on me.
By my bed is Start Where You Are - A Guide to Compassionate Living by Pema Chodron. Did I ever tell you about the time I was her driver for a weekend? The word is:
"No escape, no problem. We already have everything we need. There is no need for self-improvement. All these trips that we lay on ourselves--the heavy-duty fearing that we're bad and hoping that we're good, the identities that we so dearly cling to, the rage, the jealousy and the addictions of all kinds--never touch our basic wealth. They are like clouds that temporarily block the sun. But all the time our warmth and brilliance are right here. This is who we really are. We are one blink of an eye away from being fully awake." (pg. 1, opening paragraph)