Reasons Like Seasons

There are moments in the world that are bigger than life. Moments where all that is or has been stand before us to be judged, judged as worthy or unworthy. And it is at these moments that we need to be our best, these moments that we need to stand tall and represent the best that is of ourselves and the best that is of humanity. It is during these moments that our weaknesses need to fall behind us and our strengths need to stand beside us as we stand judgement over ourselves and those around us. And despite our best efforts, these judgements are merely comments, comments on the actions of others and of the steadfastness of ourselves to the truth. May we all find the greatest strength within us. May the strength of the greatest among us be the strength of us all. May the best be available to us all. May we all rest in peace, for all time.

Finding time to write is difficult at best, and some days it is next to impossible. With my small people running around, I am always amazed at how busy and tired I can be without actually accomplishing anything. Take this morning as an example. The baby and I wake up at six, because Boy Two never bothers to check the calendar to see if it's Saturday or not. He's been sick since the day before yesterday, and for the second time in a row his eyes are crusted shut with dried goo that had oozed from his face overnight. Blinded, he cries, first with confusion and then with anger as I pick him up out of bed and attack him with a warm, wet washcloth. Between the tears and the steam his eyes open, but he is an angry, grumpy mess, making all kinds of noise as my husband and Boy One try to sleep. I decide to take him on a bike ride to get some breakfast, because every day is better with a breakfast burrito. (Three cheers for breakfast burritos.) Getting out of the apparent with my bike...

I got up at 6:40, which is sleeping in, so I can't complain. Boy Two was up a few minutes later, in tears because breakfast wasn't delivered to him in bed within seconds of his becoming concious. Through the tears, I cooked eggs, most of which he threw on the floor before demanding a large serving of BBQ pop-chips. He did not volunteer to help clean up the eggs. I tried to take a shower alone, but Boy Two came in and stood outside the tub, ripping at his clothes trying to take off his shirt and yelling, "Bahf. Bahf!" Okay, fine. I took off his clothes and tried not to slip on the super-hero bananza that he dumped in the tub upon entering. After the shower, wet kid tried to run all over the apartment butt-naked, refusing to put on his diaper lest hell freeze over. I tried to get dressed myself instead, so he decided to cry some more. Fun times all around. Boy One woke up from the screaming and immediately began to relate his dream to me in intricate detail. There w...

Angry people do angry things. They throw papers off of the table, Scatter dinner across the floor, And refuse to brush their teeth, Unconcerned by the consiquences. The older one sings a song Despite requests for quiet. He repeats, louder each time, Disrupting the ever-shrinking peace. The small one cries. Not the cry of the sad, but the cry of the angry. Angry that he is small; angry that he cannot speak, And his anger seethes out, staining the hopeful darkness of the night. No one rests. No one sleeps. Everyone lives in the angry, vengeful rage. And yet, we still dream of sleep... Peaceful, restorative sleep. Perhaps, one day, it will come, As easily as the sunset, As quiet as the moon. Until then, we suffer, Victims of our own choices. Victims of the children we were born to love.

I love the fall. I love sweater weather, school in full force, and the promise of holidays to come. So now, as October rolls into full force, I am reminded of November, the month during which, for several years now, I have posted on social media each day, from the first to Thanksgiving, one thing for which I am thankful. Today, I am reminded of all for which I am thankful, even though it is still October. Please indulge me as I explain. I had the luxury last week of going on vacation with my husband and boys for the first time without grandparents allowing us to tag along, and I am thankful for the generosity of my husband's parents as well as our ability, finally, to afford this vacation on our own. While we were away, we swam and ate and saw the sights. I am thankful for our able bodies, good food, and the beauty of the world. I also had to do much of the inane and everyday tasks that I would have to do at home anyway. I  am thankful for fully-stocked grocery stores, Target,...

I think joy comes with forgetting With living in the moment With time that separates itself From everything else From the noise And from the heartbreak. I can forget when I read: Lost in a story Whether true or make-believe. I can forget my faults, my limitations And find peace with myself. I can forget when I teach: The world shrinks down to that room Those students And the outside dims. Time races. I can find my strengths, my abilities To question, to explain, and to respect. I can be at peace with myself. Thinking robs the joy Fills time with what ifs and should haves Awakens the beast Of utter discontent. But one cannot live in forgetting. And so I ache for the moments when I forget Only knowing them When they have already gone away.

His angry words burn like glowing daggers. His small frame shines with the might of armies. He tramples my soul with his dissatisfaction. His anger overflows. He is my husband, my father, my brother. He is me and mine. A snarled reflection of all that I hope to be. A fragrant symbol of repeated failure. I am responsible And I have no words. Nothing kind, nothing gracious Only anger and fear to face the same. We stalemate at the edge of the evening. It is night, and yet no one is sleeping. Anger is wide awake.