For Moon

So. I was just reading a dear old friend's blog, one I have not seen in TOO LONG. There was an underlying ache in this blog, a very real, maternal aching or longing for her child to be born. Such a powerful emotion, such strong depth to being a mama. In her blog she asked when it would be her time, and I realize she has given words to my own longing that's been getting particularly strong in the past year.

I worry. I worry about my health, about not being able to have children. I worry about my child surviving. I want to have children so much, so much that when I think about these awful people I know who have mistreated children I honestly believe I could hurt them because of how atrocious their crimes are (one is in jail though so I won't have the chance). I worry about that for my own children. But I want to have them. All that was strength was once weakness. All that you did not know you build upon to learn deeper, know fuller than those who just pass through. Life must be built upon itself in order to be understood, in order to be able to go on through the dark times and through the great sorrows with the right understanding of why things happen.

It has been too long.

So much time. So many months, so many days, so many small minutes all rolled up into discoveries and ideas. I am here wanting. At 24 I find that there are only few who know me now, and of those who know me none are so close. The past year was all uphill, scaling ridiculous heights without the safety on and I now carry mace in my car, locking myself in. Once upon a time I knew everyone as I was known by everyone. But there was no solace in that. That all stemmed from a small conversation back in 1999 when this all began, with a super-curly haired girl who was wise beyond our sixteen years. She told me all that I want I must give. For all that I would take it must first be given or else there would be nothing to take. Is this selfishness, then, to know that there is nothing left to give or take either? Or is it simply surrender, a quiet settling of the battle, the soul finally sighing out its relief?

Yesterday for the first time in a long time I helped someone. It was raining and I grabbed my umbrella and helped an elderly lady put her groceries in her car. In this act I became again who I was before, and I felt the small hug of a child who genuinely understands the time you've put into working with her: the way children know a person good from evil.