Where do I start? How can I begin to try to recapture the happenings of late? I had a baby. I had a beautiful, healthy baby. A nearly perfect, delicate, inspiring child that has forever changed my life! True, unadulterated love.
It's deeper than just that though...
I suppose I've always viewed my life as some sort of strange, creative work. My own creative timeline of success; and heartbreaks and success; and misgivings and forgivings and forgets. Yes, that was poetic and sweet, but really... I've sought, my whole life, to tell a story. I realize the only thing I can do in this life is work, struggle, knead at, believe so strongly in and fight for my story. This being said, I have long lived by the personal philosophy of making each day worth writing about. It's a quiet watchword that has pushed, nearly forced me to live outside the box. I've traveled far distances, loudly sung alone, and have tried, honestly, to follow my instincts the whole time.
All the while, I've done this for my child, for my family, for theirs, and then some... This might come across as slightly self-righteous or even egotistical, but I believed my hypothetical, "someday" kid would want to know about his or her mother.
The point of this entry...
That "supposed" child is now here. I hold that breathing baby boy in my arms this very minute and watch closely as he moves, and moans, and hums... it astounds me! It shakes me to my core. I'm telling my story for him, and hopefully, I'll give him the tools to tell his just right.
For Aksel: I will die and it may be tomorrow, so I must try to tell my story for you, so you can grow and be proud of what you were, before you were. We come from a strange, quiet space and its constant growth, a series of possibilities, consequences, and remembrances that make us who we are. Be strong and love true.
In fond remembrance of my Uncle Billy who passed away on Sunday, January 2nd.
It's deeper than just that though...
I suppose I've always viewed my life as some sort of strange, creative work. My own creative timeline of success; and heartbreaks and success; and misgivings and forgivings and forgets. Yes, that was poetic and sweet, but really... I've sought, my whole life, to tell a story. I realize the only thing I can do in this life is work, struggle, knead at, believe so strongly in and fight for my story. This being said, I have long lived by the personal philosophy of making each day worth writing about. It's a quiet watchword that has pushed, nearly forced me to live outside the box. I've traveled far distances, loudly sung alone, and have tried, honestly, to follow my instincts the whole time.
All the while, I've done this for my child, for my family, for theirs, and then some... This might come across as slightly self-righteous or even egotistical, but I believed my hypothetical, "someday" kid would want to know about his or her mother.
The point of this entry...
That "supposed" child is now here. I hold that breathing baby boy in my arms this very minute and watch closely as he moves, and moans, and hums... it astounds me! It shakes me to my core. I'm telling my story for him, and hopefully, I'll give him the tools to tell his just right.
For Aksel: I will die and it may be tomorrow, so I must try to tell my story for you, so you can grow and be proud of what you were, before you were. We come from a strange, quiet space and its constant growth, a series of possibilities, consequences, and remembrances that make us who we are. Be strong and love true.
In fond remembrance of my Uncle Billy who passed away on Sunday, January 2nd.
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Thanks for taking time to share your thoughts. I love 'em all!