It's not that I don't have things to say. My eyes are tired. My head is full. My heart is busy and aching and feeling and pushing and pulling. We sometimes lay face to face, and whisper dreams. And she says out loud the things I can't seem to say out loud myself. She asks for things I can't give her. She dreams of things that little girls dream of, and I listen and dream with her. We lay heart to heart and stay thankful and grateful.
Fall is inching closer and closer. The arrival of our boots in the mail and sweatshirt evenings hints at the season's changing. She is taller, and older, and growing. I place my hand on her head and say, "Stop." And she squirms out from underneath, and says, "No." I slip her feet into big girl boots and she stands proud. I'm signing papers for school, and visiting teachers, and planning days and weeks of so much time without this little girl at my side.
My list is long and lingering. My prayers are short and to the point. We are drawing lines, circles, limits and edges to leap from. A few weeks ago, I stood under these lights and listened to two of my favorite bands sing loud and strong, and something in my heart wants to just be back there. Where I can sing and no one hears me. I can cry and the crowd moves on. I feel the words that I can't say, in the songs I didn't write, but could have. I'd stand there again for that one brief moment of feeling like "Right here, right now, time can stand still while I just stop running from, and running towards, anything, and everything, and I'll close my eyes and time will stop here." Sometimes music just does that, you know? It begs for stopping. It begs for standing still. For reveling.
I'm filling my life up these days with her mostly. Because she's the most important right now.
And that dream I had, where she's older and taller, and leans at my side to say, "Remember when it was just us?" That dream was brief, but the feeling of it goes deep and lays heavy. So I say, stick close, little girl. Stay nose to nose with me. Tell me your dreams, and your fears on this flowered pillow, and I'll hold them close. And for these moments I will stop running from, running towards, anything, and everything, and I'll keep my eyes open and let time stop right here.
So it's not that I don't have anything to say here lately. It's that I'm just choosing not to for now. Be back soon. I have some pillow talk to get to.