Monday, April 19, 2010

Life: Messy but Good

When you were younger, around seven and eight I think, I pushed you in a tire swing for hours on end. You adored the swing, that and moving little cars about in the mud. It seemed the ground in your favorite area was always muddy because you liked to turn on the water hose. You liked to spray me, all of us, with water. We laughed. I changed clothes a lot. Because I thought that all of the time I needed to be perfect. Me, the house, your brother and sisters, you, your dad, we all needed to be perfect. What a vicious cycle of self-deceit. I'm sorry. You were perfect and I didn't even know it then. I didn't celebrate your differences. I mourned the things you would never do and the silent chasm between us. Now I understand more about you than then. I enjoy listening to your every word. The words a lot of folks don't hear, which come from your eyes, your movements, your touch. Loved our picnic yesterday, but I must say, we should work on sharing. I was really thirsty. But thanks for the stolen sip of water. Next time we're back to chicken or burgers. Those steak burritos are way messy.