I am thinking how much I disliked California groundcover plants. It was everywhere, rarely grass. The idea of all the twigs, bugs, and spiders hiding inside of it made me itch. But then in spring they became filled with millions of purple little flowers and suddenly my distain vanished and I became friends with the groundcover. We liked hanging out together on long walks, drinking up the rain together, and watching the neighbor kids roll down that hill on their boards. We got chummy, me and this ground cover.
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So...I realize that I am an open book. And that I should keep a few chapters closed, especially to a mostly silent audience that is littered with unknown on my stat counter. But then I get all my emotions bubbling and brewing in my head and they explode. So that's what I enjoy about writing, it keeps my head intact somehow. I guess we can toss around the word theraputic if we want to. Which doesn't make sense to anyone else unless they get release from writing the way I do.
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About one or two days of each month (let's be honest sometimes it stretches into a week) I have a hard time with this routine we have. I have a bad attitude about wearing the mom and dad hat for so many days in a row. That we both wish it was different, but can't really do much to change it with the economy the way it is right now. The hope and faith I normally carry 3 weeks of the month of him finding a local job wains. That wish for a day when dinner will hit the table and both chairs (+ folding chair) will be filled with every family member each week of the night- that thought dims. The idea we might have an evening that we can touch feet under a soft blanket in front of a movie- it runs bleak. That notion the evenings might not have to end with assuring the kids of how many 'sleeps' until Daddy comes home- that thought crashes into a pile of broken glass at my feet.
And I keep it to myself those days because I know it will pass. And how selfish to let my emotions get the best of me when I know how lucky we really are. We planned this routine and it's not forever. We agreed to give it a shot and we both knew it would be challenging for each member of our family in unique ways. And each month when I hit this bumpy emotional spot I realize I am clutching on to the empty part of that glass and fixating on how mad I am that it's empty! And in my haste and blindness I knock it over and watch all the milk spill all over the counter. I see how much was in that cup I that I had overlooked.
So many things in life will never be perfectly ideal. Happiness, peace, and joy in my attitude get completely demolished on that week of every month that I let myself drop into the valley. When I really should be dancing on the peak and showing my kids the glorious sunset while we drink our glasses together that are half full.
