Life In Spite Of Me . . .

So many things we do everyday. So much time and words we say and then we land. We cradle and cuddle through something tedious like a school project and the songs spill from speakers, sounds revving up gratitude for hearts alive. My son bounces on my knee, eleven years of being here in this life with me and he still delights in closeness. I’m weary but the preciousness of these times puts the hum in moments of “work,” researching topics and laughing over experiments. These are the snapshots of life’s richest layers, merely a glimpse.

And then the silence calls from rooms quieted by sleep and I sit here. I want to write but the fatigue is surreal and my mind is almost asleep. The hands hover over keyboard, pull away and into my lap. I look down and there is sweetness on the floor. Such responsiveness to a gentle hello from my weary face. He quickly moves in response, stands on hind legs and curls claws into my thigh while the heater hums and the house sighs. He lavishes purring, sweet face rubbing claims then gets back to his work of rest.

Ever have days where you feel life live you? Where you fret and boil over and then flow? Where you worry, wonder and then just let it all go for sheer lack of any other ideas? You land on the next thing to do and there’s a person next to you laughing, another singing in the next room and the worries suddenly feel surreal, like some twilight kidnapping in broad daylight and you hope to never go back. Just keep me here with hands made full with life’s demands, the ones that get sap sweet ooze from trees and wet with washing away yet another day’s feast.

And a cat at the end of the day, rooms full of silent sleep waiting for me to retreat, turn off lights and roll with night’s calming tide.  What was it I thought was so important? What alleged refuge called my name, distracting me from home?

No matter. I’m here and it’s more than it was at noon ‘though spent beyond all I thought would crush me, all I thought would spoil if I couldn’t capture, redeem and liberate a grand plan of success. The day unfolded all over me, a rush of details and final whisperings shoring me up in rest. These great reversals of my strife, these relentless arrestings of all I fear will find me again. And again.

Live me, life. Unfold me, love. And maybe a plan or two will fill in the alleged gaps. But now to rest before the next reversal supreme.