i sent my hubsJ an email this morning that went like this:
my being so entirely of the earth, buried in fact... makes it harder and harder to hear your ether. the muffle is great and i struggle to bear it witness and mourn again who i once was, untethered. and the great and tidal sadness in me creates such distance ...
post-fight, i am struggling again to understand how we have become as we are... and i am standing by it, my relationship to being deep into the dirt of it... buried but not suffocating... and amazed by the tethers by which i am bound to the earth, the flap of a flop, the whack of the cheese powder pack against my belly while making lunch, the chatter on the deck of boys re-meeting each other on a new summer day, pages turning, a toddler leaning into my side in a moment of rest... the meat of the earth... the dirt in my fingernails, the scrapes on my toes from the rocks underwater... the bready smell of an overfull diaper... the sweat on these boys reminding me of teenagers, scooping legos from mouths... the wild fears that overtake as they seem to be too far away in the waves... the yelling and guilt of the yelling... balls in all the corners of all the corners. . .
so physical, so much tether.
i look so fondly at who i have been, and so wistfully at what i used to take for granted... it seems too much... and i'm no fool, so i know i will look back at these times with fondness and wistfulness, so i am trying to turn in on myself while still remaining sentient and present... and it is a stretch, i tell you...