stories
>> Sunday, June 10, 2012
I don't really write anymore and I miss it very much. The compulsion to get it down still comes, but the task of moving it all from thought to written word seems daunting, an obstacle -- the dedication of pen to paper to evoke the sentiment that courses through my head and heart sits on the other side of a great hill called Resistance, and I'm not always up for the climb.
We spent the weekend at the waterfront festival, music and games and delicious food - the annual start of summer in this part of town we inhabit. It hit me today that eight years ago I was there with my 9 month old baby, alone while my husband worked all weekend. I wandered through the crowd with my baby in a sling, people-watching and taking in the music. Still newish to town, I didn't really know anyone and watched with a pang of longing for a place in the community that so obviously pulsed in that park.
Eight years later, we're there with our boy-tribe and they run with a pack of feral children, covered in playground dust and icecream drippings. We walk two feet and trip over our friends and schoolmates and midwives and cashiers at the co-op and owners of our favorite restaurants. We wrangle each other's children and hand out quarters for the bean bag toss and we laugh good-naturedly at the new parents who look on with a bit of shock at the way our big kids descend upon the playground, Darwin's laws in action.
Our seeds have sprouted and we've grown up and bloomed in this community because the soil was fertile and the sun has shined and shined. It's rained some, too. But we weather those storms together, as well.
I'm out there living it right now, and I'm pulling from my village to keep me upright and moving each day. I'm not getting it down as much as I'd like to, these stories that float and fly and sing between us, the stories that grow up and curl around our feet, climbing right into our hearts.
But they're there in my heart, these days we're living, and I do believe the stories will surface one day, one way or another.
***
soundtrack: Lumineers, Daytrotter Studio session
7 comments:
<3 it Elizabeth. I get it...you just said it more beautifully.
They'll surface. Just keep them in your heart and keep living with those boys!
I believe it too ... and I'll be here, eagerly reading, when they do. xox
This was beautifully said!
This is so lovely Elizabeth...I think that's the beauty of our words. They don't have to be written to be felt:) XO
i always assume that when someone isn't writing it is because life needs to be tended to. besides...you have three kids. i only have two and i can barely shower. much less write.
one day maybe we'll find ourselves sitting somewhere together sharing stories in real life. one day. i'm banking on it.
Hi Elizabeth,
This post is very encouraging. Sometimes it is hard for me to see the big picture on a day to day basis, especially being without friends and family we loved having so close. It has been difficult starting fresh in a new town. But if we stay in the moment we will have a beautiful story to tell, like yours.
Thank you!
Val
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