I am very quiet. Full of spinning dials and arrows. Trying to find the peace of mind and heart it takes to carefully open hands, hold still for so long, have the bird fly to your palm. I am observing, and taking care of my children. No matter how sad I feel, the phone still rings, Lola has Girl Scouts, Dakota wants to talk, Ian is here so what should we do it's Saturday and life goes on. I know my place in this Universe. I am not in my childhood, where I was terrified and helpless. I am not in Haiti, an orphan without my left arm, which was cut off without drugs. I am not Nie, recovering from my umpteenth surgery after being burnt head to ankle. I am not mourning. It is January, and it rains. Today it is sunny. My body tells me to sleep all day. Hibernation, the way of depression. I refuse. I have children. I have to move. I have to shower. I have to let life soothe me, and it cannot if I am cowardly and hide. I read about Elizabeth Edwards. I open the pages of many life stories in Borders, my children chattering nearby. There are so many answers in these books, these stories. Lives lived, priceless lessons learned, that I can read and absorb and use. But I have to read. I cannot have eyes clenched shut, no one will wake me up when it's over. That is adulthood. This is it. There won't be a do-over of my thirties, or a revision where instead of what I did is remembered, what I wished I had done is remembered. Walking to get coffee, the sun is on my face. I can see the blue sky. I have so much more than has been subtracted. This is a balance not kept for life. One day I will fall short, surely. I am not in negative. I have to find the way to create the life I want. It is up to me. No one else. I cannot let fear make decisions. The only way to have the life I desire it to insist on it's evolution every day. If I want to be close to my children, to have them love me and trust me, I must insist on balance in myself. I cannot be lazy. Children know everything. They know I am sad. But they will never believe I am standing on a cliff. They will never fear my snapping teeth or wolfish eyes. They will never see me helpless. I will never see myself that way. There is something I can do. I will do it. This way, no matter how bent my back is, the steps are taken, and that is what matters. Step forward. Step forward. It is the only way out- through. Standing still until it is over will only ensure that when I look around, I am exactly where I was when my eyes closed and my feet stopped. So I move. I read. I take my vitamins. I force myself to share when I want to be silent. I force silence when I want to be crazy. I force my body to move when I crave stagnation. I force prayer when I want self-pity. I force exposure here, when I would like to hide. I am the mother now. I am the adult. I am the one in charge. I am making it real.
illustration: Option-G
