Wednesday, February 02, 2005
With so little time to write, or think deeply, it can seem as though my life has become dull or lost its creative, intellectual edge. Not so. Or, I don't think so. But maybe just a little. With enough time, and after a day of balanced nutrition and moderate exercise, followed by a massage, I would like to write about love. I would like to write about the awe and fascination I feel when I watch my children, or when I reflect on how long I have loved Geoff. It would take considerable effort to avoid the cliches and bumpersticker phrases we have all heard, so that my emotions could be adequately expressed. I suppose there are many days when romance and poetry is left unspoken, unrecorded, and instead we must gaze upon a basket of clean socks and think. "This is love. Everlasting, true and kind." The dishwasher was run last night, which means undying devotion. I returned the rented DVDs, which translates in to, "I want to stay in this marriage." And when Maria's diaper leaked all over her dress and on to my only jeans, and I smiled at her, changed her and started another load of laundry, it was as though to say "You are light and joy, and a reflection of the dreams and hopes I hold with your father. Let me kiss you and begin again."
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