5.11.2008

jon was supposed to come home tonight, but his flight was canceled. it's certainly not the end of the world, but i am not particularly interested in continuing to endure the agony of taking care of the children by myself. my dad left today and for the three days he was here, i think there was more stress than before. maybe that's part of it. i don't know. the days seem unending. being alone is so hard for me to do. i have no great grief, i suppose. just the simple mundane struggle of my relationship with my children and the needs of myself and the two of them. when i think about it, to complain feels stupid and pathetic because i am not always alone. i do not go day in and day out without the love and support of my husband. i do not toil at mere drudgery, but at meaningful, self-chosen work. and yet, it is difficult. it is so very difficult. things don't go right. messes get made. cupboards get emptied. stomachs fill and growl again. it all goes and goes without stopping. there is no rest, it seems. no pause in between. no time for breath. no time to reconsider and recalculate, which must always be done. the negotiations occur amidst it all - in the folding of towels, in the stirring of pots, the thinking of replies to emails and the negotiations of work and hobby. it is all always there, needing, wanting. and i am always lacking. i cannot even love perfectly. i am in love with the idea of loving and wonder, sometimes, what love even is, if i truly mean the love of the thing itself, or if i just invent it in the fantasy of all the good moments of the thing or those that are good enough. is it pure and unbreaking like light? or is it a story i tell myself about seeing hands folded just so, or lips puckered or dirt on a soft, round cheek? is it just a collection of ideas? is there nothing really there? or do i, in thinking of it, try too hard for the perfect glimpse that cannot really exist? without the struggle, does love come easily or does it perhaps not come at all? if there were nothing to press against, would my heart merely feel empty and small? could i even stand it?

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