A long twelve hours, 689 miles that had been repeated for the seventh time in six weeks. Sitting at the end of the bed I share with my husband, in the tiny room of our new home.
A temporary home. Not intended for comfort but the practicality of circumstance. Exhausted.
Exhausted and angry and forgetting.
I felt the world tilt.
I let him tend me. Behave appropriately grateful. Rubbing my tender muscles and speaking the words he knew would heal.
I let him hold ground.
Waiting patiently for me to rest and awake.
Bearing the brunt of my quiet frustration.
I gave way to an immaturity that I thought had burned clean some time ago. Annoyed with any burden still waiting for my effort. Self talk seeping into my joy. The love being seen.. Being wanted. Being home.
I let him feel guilt for my fragile condition. Circumstances that he didn’t control. Circumstances I have chosen.
I held no ground.
Laying down gratitude for the greed of resentment.
And that is its own pain, the forgetting.
In 2015 I will have traveled ten thousand pressured miles to be home. To bring my family home. To make a space home.
I will have worked strained hours to tend opportunity. Carrying the weight of a family nearly grown, so that they can grow together. I will have stood still, coiling silently waiting for the mark. I will have pulled in the traces, uncomfortable with the pace. Worn by direction.
In 2015 I will have spent my strength and reserve and abundance moving between future and now.
I will have felt the loss and weighed the balance of a body as it bleeds.
I will have fallen.
I will get up.
Knowing, I will take back the ground and remember with gratitude the road that brought us here.
When my children were young, far from grown, I was given more.
Roots in tilled soil.
Standing at the edge of the life I share with my husband, sustained by youth and polarized by fear, I begged for a world made level.
I let him tend me. Behave appropriately grateful for the gift my body had given.
Bloodline and bond.
I let him break ground. Coiling tightly waiting for the mark. Diligent in his promise of time. Stretching to offer the four walls of a home. Missing moments, and letting his body bleed. He traveled.
72.4 miles in dark mornings. 869 miles in the six days before rest.
45, 177 miles to earn a wage. 180, 710.4 to make a living.
3,577 hrs and 6 minutes, assuming no delay.
Given for my peace and rest. To carry the weight of a family beginning to grow, so that they could grow together. For the comfort of love.
I suppose there is balance in what I’ve done. What he gave. The we.
I suppose there is a lesson in the knowing.
We’ve felt our body weep.
Missing moments, and letting a body bleed. Given for peace and rest.
So that they could grow together. For the comfort of love.