She leads a lovely, rather ordinary life. And, on most days she likes it like that. She is contented. More than that...she hopes that someday, when her children are older, they will know that this period of time with them has been filled with richness. Indeed, they are her lifeblood.
Her best poetry comes to her when she is doing the everyday tasks of caring for her family - preparing dinner, tackling yet another mountain of laundry, or catching a glimpse of her children playing outside. Even in rare snatches, it arrives within her head amidst the cacophony of sound emanating from the rear seats of her minivan.
There are times when she knows the day is not going well by 9am. When she has trouble formulating a simple grocery list. Something that is as familiar as sleep and brushing her teeth. And then, while in the aisle...stands there in a swoon, fondling the wine bottles as if they are close friends. The labels lilting her way ...vanilla, smooth, soft, velvety finish... A song to her tone deaf starved heart. And ...later, when she drives into the gas station, pulls up to the gas pump, gets out, and realizes that the gas cap is on the other side. Her mind has traveled further than the much needed tank.
Yes... sometimes, despite her children's undeniable lusciousness, she wishes to sling back a Jack and Coke at noon... declaring to all and sundry that IT'S JACK O'CLOCK! INDEED. She's ready for her own whiskey a go GO. Perhaps, if she really knew what was going on in the neighboring houses, she would find kindred spirits in her need for ...space. Room to breathe.
Days when the loud hum of the stove hood's fan is welcoming instead of intrusive. The noise, a usual annoyance, her friend. For it closes out the nearby shrill cant of Diego as she fixes dinner. Or...it is Word Girl? The DIN. Beating into her like clubs wielded by neanderthals. Yes, white noise...YOU are welcome here.
The greatest irony is that there is no one to blame but herself. Unfortunately. Her world of laundry piles, meals to make, schedules to keep ...are all in a disarray of her own making. Because. She hasn't scheduled herself any time. And she is a snarling, bitchy mess within. Occasionally oozing out around her edges.
What saves her is the blank page. Sometimes it taunts--> daring her to throw down words. Sometimes it lets her slide keyboard strokes across its snowy surface. And sometimes it stares, bored, yawning... into a silent void. Yet, whatever the blank page, she usually cannot leave it so. For it feeds her. Whether it is a self-conscious rant or careless phrase or hours spent upon one word, it is enough for today...
***"Shaken and Stirred" Painting by Chuck Gumpert.
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I think the blank white page enriches the lives of many of us.
ReplyDeleteits the blank page that gives the writer the freedom needed for the soul...
ReplyDeleteA blank page is a beautiful thing, and you fill them well.
ReplyDeleteJCK, You and I were on the same wavelength yesterday. Of course, my drink of choice would have been Tangueray and Tonic with a twist of lime -- a memory of breezy shoreline college freedom.
ReplyDeleteBut I digress. Our din was caused by the "pleasant" discovery of a variety of musical instruments long buried (thankfully) in the bottom of the toy box. The discovery was made, and one xylophone, triangle, recorder, train whistle, and accordion later, I was ready for the day to be over. My brother called long distance from Philly and during our conversation wondered aloud whether we were taking our newly formed jug band on the road.
This morning I'm scouting new hiding places for those "enriching" toys... Any ideas?
- Julia
p.s. Thanks for visiting me at Midwest Moms. ;)
I think if blogging had been around when my kids were younger, I would have been a better mom to them. One reason would be that I would know that I wasn't the only mom overwhelmed by it all, and the other would be that I would have the outlet of the shared written word. I think shared is key here because I wrote journal style, but it wasn't nearly as freeing, uplifting and joyful as sharing my words with others.
ReplyDeleteYou make great use of the blank page. Keep in mind that we all have those jack o'clock days - have a better day today!
ReplyDeleteYou hope that "they will know that this period of time with them has been filled with richnes." I hope you're right. I felt like I did everything right when my kids were that age. Now that don't remember it at all -- maybe they do at the subconscious level; let's hope so -- and they just think I am as square as can be. And after hearing me tell them for their whole lives that "of, course you're much smarter than me," they believe it.
ReplyDeleteI've been enjoying my children more these last few weeks. I don't know if it's me or them. Most likely both. I hope it lasts at least through vacation. They make me laugh.
ReplyDeleteBut come spring, I know I'll be comparing notes with my friend and neighbor to see if we can hear the yelling from the other's house.
This is a wonderfully scrumptious blog! I followed you over from Her Bad Mother. Your header is amazing!
ReplyDeleteLove it!
oh curses of the blank page. You are a luscious thing, you!
ReplyDeleteI had one of those days yesterday as well....perhaps it was something in the atmosphere that was felt from CA to FLA.
ReplyDeleteGirl, you have been inspired these last couple of weeks.
ReplyDeletehi, i chance upon your blog through angeline's and I really love it.
ReplyDeleteit is very inspiring and I love poem :) once a while I do try, but I m far from being able to write.
A jack and coke is much more poetic than what sometimes calls to me (wine, usually) :-)
ReplyDeleteOh how I love me a blank page. You've reminded me I also need more time for myself so I don't want wine at noon. So true, really. But I keep forgetting.
ReplyDeleteI had some whiskey the other night and thought of you. Really, it's true. I had to smile because it was inspired by you (and another real life person who led me down whiskey road) It was yummy.
Just so you know, it's always whiskey-thirty somewhere in the world.
ReplyDeleteAnd I so remember those days.
Your blank pages are a lot luckier than some of the rest of our blank pages.
ReplyDeleteAs for Jack and Coke at Noon, keep in mind that noon at your place is 3 o clock at mine, and that I am no longer allowed Jack of any kind, so if had a little nip at noon, you could do it on my behalf, thus making it an altruistic and completely selfless gesture on your part. (Give me enough time I can justify anything.)