There are some mornings that Malcolm wakes singing. Singing! Lately it has been "Day-O". In the 1st private moments of his day he wastes no time. He wakes, he feels joy, and he sings. Mornings can be gifts that way, a fresh start, new air, another day for feeling, thinking, doing, singing. I think
Raffi sings to adults as much as to children: "All I really need is a song in my heart, food in my belly, and love in my family."
Everyday I am stretched. There are days when I resist. Those are painful times.
There are days when I stretch, release, open, breathe, listen, & share. On those days I can feel love, on those days I can give love.
We all get to taste different fruit. I still have a bitter-sweet taste lingering in my mouth from a summer that began with a pregnancy and wound down with a miscarriage. Summer? Where did summer go? It feels like it was a blur of expectations and excitement, and then grounding reality.
This is what I've been telling myself, this is what I've been doing: Take a breath, stretch, clean out the refrigerator. Cook some good food, turn on some good music, take good naps. Rub your husband's shoulders, paint rooms, watch some Olympics, read a good book together. Set up your space, organize your energies, make your work and your play welcoming. Call your mom, change the laundry, pot some plants. Change the laundry again, clean up breakfast, fold the laundry, try to put it all away before it's time to wash again. Write letters, be with friends, go on a date and hold hands. And what about that sweet boy! Smell his forehead, read a story, sing a song, build with the blocks, watch for garbage trucks, take a walk, pick up sticks, listen for birds, get out the drums, make a little music. Oh, and pray, don't forget to pray. Sleep at night, rest, reset, and wake - singing - in the morning.
Sometimes I jump rope in my kitchen. My neighbors probably can see me through the window, probably think I'm a little strange. I'm just trying to keep a song in my heart.
I love my life.
