What Dreams May Come

I'm looking for poetic things in the cracks of my dreams last night. I remember people leaving each other, laying next to one other underneath the stars. Isn't that too intimate of a place to say goodbye?

I remember giant yellow magnets...and the one that said 'It Is Done.' The artsy picture then became a movie, and I woke up thinking it was beautiful. These dreams. They don't make sense. Even less so--I see--my words fail to organize them.

What of DREAMS now? Aren't they so vivid? Is it the postpartum hormones? Or the intense shift of my identity? Am I sifting through the remnants of some past me? Looking to find what to keep and what to throw? Is the EGO re-defining? Yes....

I ache for all things beautiful. These dreams are delicate, pretty. I like that. My life dreams are like my night dreams...

Time is different now. Precious. And unpredictable.

Everything I want is tied up in this family's future. In Dax's future. In our future children's future. What I hope TO DO is not as important now as WHY.

(In between dreams...) I am laying down next to me in the grass. Under the stars. Thinking 'isn't this too intimate of a place to say good-bye'?

Right as Rain

It's raining outside. The palm tree juts out in jagged lines. A spiky black silhouette against the grey sky. The white curtains glow with light in front of the window in the nursery as we rock gently. His navy blue eyes watch the shiver of the trees outside. His eyes, still and open. As we rock. Back and forth.

'I love you,' I think. His little body like a magnet to mine. My breath sets the pace for his breath. I must calm down to get him down. I'm learning patience. I listen to the cars in the street turn the corner in front of our house, their splash coats the curb. Like a short breath. And. Breathe.

I have nothing to do but love you. Every day. Just that thought alone makes my throat well up. My eyes choke back tears. Thank you God. Oh My God, Thank You.

I see my world, my house, my thoughts...through your eyes now. Everything is new. Everything is in place. Everything is safe and planned. And lovely.

I feel at home. For the first time in years, everything makes perfect sense.

This Is Home.