There's a quality of ridiculousness to my luck. I can't add 'with my children' because that with is reductive, and there is nothing smallish or secondary about being lucky with your children- it is everything, or not everything, but almost everything, so close to everything that you don't dare press your fingers hard into the spaces and wounds and unluckiness. Not to say I don't feel the things that have hurt me. Just to say that I understand, in a truly complete and human timeline way, the place where they belong, those other unlucky things. Not to say my children fill every nook and cranny of my being, of course they do not. Of course I still desire and want and need my writing, books, movies, friendship, love, passion, sex, nature, career, success, travel, great food. All to say that none of that compares for me to the totality of satisfaction and soulful joy I receive in birthing, loving, mothering and eventually befriending my children. I do not say it is so because I think it is the righter thing to feel, or truer- only that it is undeniably true for myself, and has been since the day Dakota was born, almost twenty years ago.
One day, my luck could change. And then I will never forget, that for all the years before, I was the luckiest. I will hold that like the jewel of the ages that it truly is, and it will burn into my chest as it does, and I will shine until the day I die with furious rage and grief and the everlasting brilliance of love, as the stars so now in our sky.
“For the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth - that Love is the ultimate and highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love.” - Viktor E. Frankl from Man's Search For Meaning
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