Diaries Magazine


By Owlandtwine
...what did it mean to fervently, wholeheartedly name a desire?  May you feel protected and safe.  To speak out of a deep yearning - to set that yearning loose in the world?  May you feel contented and pleased.  Could a wish be a less fraught word for a prayer?  May your physical body support you with strength.  Maybe it wasn't about who, if anyone, was on the other end, listening.  Maybe faith had to do with holding up one end of the dialog.  May your life unfold smoothly, with ease.
- Dani Shapiro, from Devotion
In the middle of the night, in the middle of a dream, I heard my name.   
Mama, I'm scared.  For a moment I was startled.  But then I remembered just moments before, hearing little moans and wails.  He hides under the covers until I come to him.  I slip into bed and pull his tiny, cold body close to me.  He positions my hand over his heart.  Within five minutes he is asleep, and I stare out into the dark night.
I smell wood and smoke.  In silence, I listen. 
In the middle of this night, I reflect.  My daytime hours have been consumed with mostly photography work.  The gratitude I feel for this seems almost unreachable.  To have these portrait and editorial collaborations unfolding so beautifully, and to be able to financially contribute to our family again, is the world to me.  This transition our family is experiencing is happening softly, unlike our past edgy starts.  By school pick up time, I shut my computer down for the day.  The hours that I get to be with my boys now are short and even more sacred.  I want to be with them, full.  I light candles in the kitchen and on the dining room table.  Simple acts of grace and thankfulness.  We cook, tell stories of our day, saturate ourselves with fresh air, while getting in synch with the subtle shift of the season's change.  We got a fish.  Her name was Rosemary, and then Rosalinda, and now - simply - Rosie.  I expected to only like her because my boys love her.  But as it goes, I find myself pausing throughout the day to go look at her.  I swear on my life, that fish girl has a personality.  She sees me and puffs up her striking magenta fins.  I smile. At day's end, and once I've peeked in on little chests rising and falling, hands loving wrapped around green and blue blankies, one last time for the day, I curl up in my bed and read read read.  I drink up the language and recipes and beautiful imagery, tonic for a good, full life.  I kindly ask my worries to go gently on me.  I recognize Mama in the night as gratitude.  At times, goodness simply flows, and I understand deep in my bones to allow it. 
At the bank the other day, the teller asked me how my day was going.  Busy, I replied.  The very best kind of busy.

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