Nothing I type into my computer is that profound I feel. For some reason at this point, I have to force myself to go back and edit my other blog. I'm not so gently reminded by my 8 year old, "...so, what's the deal with your book? What are you doing about it?" I take that more than subtle nudge to get back at it...All the while knowing that having to edit, having to read through what has gone through my head in the last couple of years is hard. If only the edits to be made could be applied to life...
I have to wonder. I wonder about people whose lives were so very hard, and they had the presence of mind to journal about it...How did they know what they were going through was hard? Did they realize that their words would shape generations later? Now, I'm not saying I would ever be within miles of these people. But wouldn't it be interesting if Anne Frank survived? Wouldn't it be interesting to know what her thoughts would be re-reading them? But, editing words is easy, editing life is impossible as hindsight is always golden.
Then there are the questions that are asked of you...by a nearly five year old. Nora's ability to not filter her thoughts, sometimes embarrassing, are thought provoking and admirable. Her ability to express her fears, while at times maddening, are a lesson in how to live. Her fears, very numerable, are text book as to what she has been through in her life so far. She and her brothers have had profound life altering events, all before the age of being able to really process them and or cope the way an adult would. Answering her questions as she lays down at bedtime are at times like walking a tight rope. The wrong answer will just initiate more questions. The right answer might indeed break her heart. All the while knowing how most kids her age don't have to ask these questions. They live in a safe-unbroken world.
Then I find myself in a funk. I could blame the full moon. I could blame hormones. I could blame the lack of adult time I've had lately. Not really knowing if writing about it would even change things. But this funk is different. It's a mixture of feeling lonely (yeah, like that happens around here) and wanting to isolate myself all at the same time. Counter productive? Indeed. Wanting to claw my way out? Definitely. Lately, it's my kids faces. It's the moments just after telling them how their lives had changed and I could do nothing to make it better. It's the sleepless dread I had even telling them their dad was gone. It's the feeling of knowing my words were/would crush them. And, it sucks.
I wonder, is this whole thing another wave? Were the other ones just a teaser, leaving me cocky and headstrong for no reason? I have to admit, I don't really want to know the answers. I'll blame the moon and hormones, squint a little as to not see what might be coming and hope for the best. With any luck I'll try to remind myself that this might be a chance to 'edit' as life happens...
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