There are days in which writing is like slogging through mud...backwards. I've grown adept at avoiding myself here on the page. Naively, I keep believing that one day I will wake up and it will be easy again - words tumbling end over end to land in neat rows. This New Year brings with it hope and thoughts of starting fresh, a clean
slate, and letting go of things that tug me down into a dissatisfying stew of deep misgivings and
As always, I see the passage of time, that elusive will-o'-the-wisp, through the lives of my children. Their limbs grow longer and they move with more purpose. I continue to be amazed by their differences. My daughter lives to go to school. She loves every aspect of learning, stretching and challenging herself. My son's discomfort with doing work in the classroom is a constant onslaught of a very different set of challenges, and it just keeps getting harder.
I wish to be more conscious of the beauty around me in the New Year. Beauty in all things...and knowing that what will be will be, yet it will be OK.
Art work courtesy of: http://flina.deviantart.com/