I miss you.
Really, I do.
I miss writing for fun or for conducting cerebral acrobatics or for just having a spot to relegate my thoughts when it all gets too bunched up and cluttered on the inside.
I miss the freedom of listening to random nothingness.
I thought that life was busy before. And I suppose that everyone was right when they said, "It's not so bad when your kids are really little. Sure, you miss the sleep and the quiet. But when they get older, well, that's when the bigger worries come."
My kids aren't old. Sam is turning 12 in two days. Kate is 9. And, Claire is 6. But they're not babies or toddlers or preschoolers. They can pour their own bowl of cereal and make their own bed. Kate is becoming quite the master laundry expert of the house and Sam is pretty good about doing anything you want him to, if given a list. Claire, well, she's a work in progress.
Two days a week, I have thirty-one 7 and 8 year-olds in a classroom. One night a week, I have graduate students. And luckily, I have another graduate class to teach on the docket as well.
But between the shuttling of piano, ballet, speech, Boy Scouts, Daisies, school, and soon to be football, soccer and gymnastics...I'm often tired.
And so, I don't run like I did before. I don't write like I did before. I don't often post on Facebook or share my opinions about the fucking debacle that has become our political reality. I've often wondered if the reason that my life has shifted so much in the last few months is that I'm officially living in the Zombie Apocalypse and no one asked me whether I wanted to be here. The only thing that seems to make me laugh are really good SNL episodes and sometimes, humoring myself with the ridiculous banter that ensues between people who will intrinsically never change the "other's" mind.
That said, I feel badly....that I don't do more to demonstrate my opposition to the current political climate...that I don't write articles highlighting the very real catastrophic calamities that are on the horizon, if we keep heading down this undeniably, unGodly, fucked up path.
I feel badly that my house is often a wreck and that many times, I squeeze everything that needs to get done in the 11.5th hour. And that I'm not meditating or talking to my children about the ills of the kind or lack there of leadership that we're witnessing.
But in the very quiet moments when there is a second to breathe and no expectation of me, except for my thoughts, here is what I know to be true.
This is the life we have chosen.
We are married. We are parents. We have jobs with responsibilities. We have bills. We have people getting test results back that scream of uncertain futures. We have science projects that are due and oil that needs to be changed in the car. Groceries that need to be bought. People that we need to text and meet for coffee because it's been too long. We need to say I'm sorry and have sex, even when we're tired. We need to review English assignments and time speeches and get lunches ready. We have presentations for clients on a short turnaround. And, tax appointments. And pain. And hope. And anger. And love.
And in these ways, we are all simply living the lives that we have chosen. Trying to do our best with where we are and what we know to be true or palatable today, until tomorrow brings a different chapter in the story.
So, if it's okay, I'll keep writing and sharing my mundane stories. They're not necessary or even helpful. They're just a slice of life that maybe you can relate to.
Because I miss you.
And all of the ugliness that I feel surrounded by particularly in the early morning hours when I check my phone and view a new executive order.
I like sharing my kids with you and hearing about yours.
I like knowing that you are there and that as people, we are not so far apart, all just trying to live the lives we have chosen.