Just Write ~ The Second

September 20, 2011

If I were a box of cereal or a container of spice or a bag of brown sugar in a pantry, I’d be at the end of my shelf life.

Expired.

It feels like all of my nerve endings are exposed. I’ve got that everything-feels-like-sandpaper-rubbing-at-my-skin feeling.

Too.

Too much not enough.

Not enough sleep, clarity, writing, health, time…

A mother’s verse in every song is love-pain.

I want all of this that hurts so much. I even want more of it when the day is done and quiet or when the womb is never going to do its stretching work ever again.  Even though the quiet is good and more is not an option, I reach for more love-pain.

In the dawn I say, it’s too quiet everywhere. Even when all I’ve wanted all day and all night is a buffer from The Loud. Suddenly quiet just doesn’t fit right. Quiet is the impending sound of Wrong. Something must be wrong. Even when everything is fine, quiet calls for sound to return because it is life.

My body home will stay quiet, no more new little people from womb to meet.  One day the walls around me will empty out too and leave my room spaces quiet. Every mother seems to feel itchy and exposed in those days, too. Children grown.

Where I live now, the quiet is never-lasting. So I sit in the earliest of morning. It is the only time it can be like this–could hear a pin drop–and it is like a ticking time bomb. It comes to an abrupt end so fast like such a short fuse. But I try it on and I sit and write and it’s the only time I can. And then my nerves are more raw because I could have used the sleep in the Writing Time.

But I must.

I move the keurig to the garage, no lie. To try not to wake the other four with its coffee making. I fuss at the dog if her tail bangs the couch too loudly and I open the fridge with more care than wrapping a gift. I am all nerves and nearly completely incapable of staying quiet myself, with my clumsy jumpiness and over-alert status.  I am sleep-deprived and on fire to watch words from left to right, appearing here and there and all the places I pour myself to page-screen.

I must because if words are everywhere, shared in release of writing and reading, then there is a clapping and snapping, clicking connection that we need.

Now here it comes in little feet awake, the noise returning with a pound pound pound to the wood floor and a Hiiii Mommyyyy. The tail starts hitting the couch and the toys start banging and the dishes clattering. Things are pulled from the pantry cupboard and the words have changed me.

Inspired.

 

:::::

If you don’t read all of this, please read the BOLD parts…

This is the second installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {Please see the details here.}  I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. There are really no rules, besides Just Write! (Then link back to this post in your post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.) 

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?

Thank you!

Psst: One more thing…you can Grab the Button if you’d like. The code is over there on the sidebar. See it?

Link on up, friends. I’m so glad you’re here! If you don’t know how, email me and I’ll help! heatheroftheeo (at) gmail (dot) com.

 

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon