Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Running on Empty

After I dropped Mopsy at school today, and I was making my usual multiple trips between the van and the house, unbuckling and lifting and carrying in the house, it started to rain.  I looked down at the chalk drawings on the driveway because Sally hates when it rains and washes all her hard work away. (Her real life middle name means "industrious" and I don't think we could have picked a more fitting one if we had known her for 20 years prior to her birth.)

She asked me to look at these pictures late last week when she originally drew them, but I was busy and then I caught a nasty virus and I wasn't outside at all.  I'm very lucky that it didn't rain before today and I got to see them at all, because they were the best thing I've read. Ever.

She had drawn a smiling sun and a rainbow over a house, and next to them were these words:

"Sunny here. Welcome here.  Love and care here. Our house."

I almost cried, because, deep in my heart, that is the only thing that I want my children to ever remember about this house. That it was sunny.  That they were always welcome here. That they were loved and cared for here.

I don't know if I am hitting that mark.  I really don't and that scares me.  What will they remember about this home, about this mother?  This tired, yelling, worn out mother?  Love and care?  Oh, please God, let them remember that.

I know I've been away for a long time.  I tried many times to come and write, but I couldn't.  It was more than writer's block.  It was a writer's freeze.  A writer's winter.

But winter doesn't last forever; it's just a season after all. And even when the trees are leafless and bare, the warm sap is running beneath the bark and flowing out to the branches.

I don't know when I'll be able to write more regularly, or even if I'll be able to write more regularly.  Winter is a long season. But I can tell you that the sap is rising.

Because it's sunny here.


  1. Oh Sally is the sweetest! And yes, obviously that's what they remember and experience in your house, because that's what she wrote. You just exude love and happiness even if you don't always feel that way. And when did Septimus get all grown up?? Stop it already!

  2. I love that Sal. And they will remember the sun, because underneath the sometimes-yelling, often-tired mother is a sunny, funny mother (and father). And God.

    At the end of winter is the thaw.

    PS that is just the kind of stuff Faith writes on the driveway. ;-)

  3. This is so beautiful! I have tears in my eyes. I often worry that the kids aren't going to have good memories of a warm and loving home and of a happy mom. But I think it is in the striving that we ultimately achieve what we set out for.

    And it sounds to me like the writer is back!

  4. They know. They'll remember the sun and the love. You are a wonderful mother and they know that. I know what you are saying though. I drive to pick them up at school and think "I'm going to be peaceful and there will be no yelling today" and then they get in the car and they are fighting and all of my good intentions go out the window. I know yours will know and I hope mine do too.

    I hope you are back. I so enjoy reading your updates and your blog. But believe me, I understand about the block ;)

  5. They obviously DO know, even when you don't think they do. You're clearly doing fine. I hope you're feeling better--physically AND otherwise. Hugs!

  6. Oh man did I love love this.


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