I Don't Know

I don't understand this time of my life, what am I doing. It may strike you as remarkable that this is the first time in my life since the birth of Dakota that I have felt this way. At 19, I found the purpose of my life- loving him. Being a mother. You may wonder how, with four children, two at home, how is this different?

I don't know. 

I am different. Me. Not the circumstances. Not the love, the devotion, the loyalty. And my life is bigger, richer and more interesting in many ways, than it was for all those years. So why don't I feel enriched?

I don't know.

So if I am to write a list of things I do not know, we will be here for pages, hundreds of thousands of characters of Times New Roman. The things I do know comprise a short, essential list. 

I want to go home. I want to sit in a field of berries with my mouth stained, a touch of sunburn across my brow, squinting unattractively, watching my kids do what they do. I want to hear the drip of water from the trees after it rains. I want the wind in the bushes, rattling around like an old lady who lost her glasses: Ms. Whatsit, for example. I want to step back into my place in the river of ancestoral time, to feel the gravitational pull of the earth- does space scare you? It scares me.Where am I?

I don't know.

I feel lost. I only feel grounded when I'm in the tangle of my children in bed at night, their legs on my legs, or in Mr. Curry's arms, or when he holds my hand. Alone, I tend to hold my arms around myself, like I did in high school. Like I might fly apart, but very, very quietly... no one would even notice. They would still see me as here because how many people actually SEE YOU when they look at you?

I don't know.