Our chat saves me from dwelling on disappointment.
Their old house is like an enchanted castle but then the lights reveal its colorful and cozy interior.
I sneak under her bedcovers while she watches TV.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
I talk and talk and she listens and the sun keeps shining on us despite everything.
There was no need to argument. To ask for help. I just did it. Nobody seemed to care. I care.
I feel brain-washed. In a good way.
Monday, November 28, 2011
An amazing mackerel sky at dawn. I can’t ever remember seeing a single cloud spread across the sky like that, in the form of a volcano eruption in grey and pink.
I changed clothes and walked right out of the house, into the sun. It was a perfect walk to the library. And back, under the starry sky.
There is something healing coming my way every time I experience my teenage daughter’s expressions of deepest sentiments, be it happiness, anger, sadness, pain. Or fear, like tonight. It’s in the knowing she can do it and I never could.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
I feel assured about not experiencing unplesantries without prior notice. Which is good.
I help Jay dress up for the dancing class. I feel her heart pound in anticipation.
Em’s looking forward to going to the book fair.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
I feel my unease. Can't focus. Can't work. Then my coworker says something about scanning some competitor's prices and I can't be more grateful for the lucky chance to leave the office for a couple of hours.
It's been ages since I sat down next to her to draw. To read, I will do that any time. But to draw, no. It seems too simple, won't shut the mind. But then I do just that. Draw ornaments, patterns, doodle. And I dive into peacefulness, even if just for an hour. We both do.
I watch her parade in her new black boots. And I can see she is growing. Too fast.