(Written to my son Elijah – August 2011 – 6 months pregnant)
I took a break over the weekend. I allowed myself not to think about you. What is to come, the pages of to-do’s needing doing, the whirlwind of my mind and heart I gave a rest to this past weekend and I just allowed myself to be. Take Faith to get new gym shoes, and her passport renewed, took her to the movies, and saw Lion King, which I love as much as she does. The music is some of my favorites. I did think of you in the movie. The song, “Circle of Life,” made me think of you. I decided that the “Circle of Life” will be your song. My song to you, among many. That one says it all. You were with us, this weekend, but I didn’t allow tears this weekend. I didn’t allow my head or my heart to go to the place that makes me catch my breath, well my eyes with water, and have moans escape my mouth from the bottom of my soul. I slept and watched football a lot. I just decided to ‘be’ not do.
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Today I know I have to ‘do’ – I already went to get the TB test at the clinic that was scheduled. I sat in the waiting room reading the amazing book I found at that antique store on that recent road trip across the desert states. The one by Gibran, “voice of the master.” I wrote in my journal the masterful eloquence of how he related music to the soul. The metaphor of the flowers and wind and destiny. It felt as if I was reading some of my own poetry just mine being more amateur, but the messages were the same. Another person, like Rilke whom I understand and who understands me, just decades apart. I wish there was someone here now who understands the depth of the tears behind my eyes. [/expand]
