Blue hills

Ah, the writing of the blog every day continues to be an interesting process. Today I’m busy with the ordinary (groceries, cleaning, laundry) and sad. Sad that one more Thanksgiving has passed, this time with my eldest almost 16.

I mean, we are still in the middle of the holiday weekend, but I can’t help but feel that pull of all that is passing. And it feels silly to write about it. I mean, everyone writes about it. How hard it is to be up at my youngest daughter’s K-8 school; the parents ever younger, my kids way past so  much of the experiences they are right in the middle of experiencing.

I mean it’s not hard hard, but still and yet, it’s so very human to look behind me. Back there was sometimes full of waiting for right now to arrive. Like last night: both girls at a sleepover. I never imagined that happening often, but now it’s happened twice in the last few months. Since my youngest has never liked straying far from home, it’s weird to see that slowly changing.

Yes, yes, it was nice to be with Chris. No, no, I can’t have two teens under my roof (but I do). Same old story, but my story, so I guess I can ache and admit that I ache.

So I’ll leave you with a Mark Nepo poem today. He writes so beautifully of the human experience. This one is from his book “Reduced to Joy,” and here’s Parabola, where there are a few more of his poems.

Saturated By Mark Nepo

Heavy drops, carrying more
than they can bear, fall from no-
where, bending leaves already
sagging, and one by one,
the leaves let go.

They drift to the earth,
each quiet as a master
juggler missing everything so
completely that he realizes
he is being juggled.

Surrender is like this.
Not giving up, but
missing and letting go.










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