The Storms That Brew

I want to tell them to hold on, but I don’t need to. They are holding on through the hotel rooms or bunkered down on high ground. They are holding onto their faith, hope and belief that it will be ok, just like we tell the children. We tell ourselves it too and we are right because it will be ok or it won’t and if it’s not it doesn’t matter anyway.
And I am here, 2000 miles away holding my breath for them, wrapping my imaginary arms around them and whispering that it will be ok.


I’ve been silent lately, here and walking through the days. I am observing. I am breathing deeply. I am trying to come to an understanding within myself that all the parts belong, in the form that they take within me. I’ve always thought, mistakenly, that the mother and the fire can’t exist at the same time. I’ve been fighting all this time. I don’t know how to exist peacefully, wholly within myself, but I am determined to find out.

There’s no reason, logically, that I cant raise my girls and be all of me at the same time. There’s no reason to feel this loss and ache. There nothing that isn’t self created and self fulfilling. I create my life, my future and I created my past. There’s nothing that stops me except me.

Play hard. Love wildly.

hold on down there, hold on