I’ve been thinking lots of serious little thoughts lately. Serious . . . big thoughts? Yes. Big. Thoughts on birth and death and the fleeting bits of mortality in between. But (and listen, I’m just going to quit worrying about “and”s and “but”s at the first of sentences. I like them there. Sometimes I really want to make a stop – not with a comma-like pause – but FULLY. And then I want to continue. Just like I did there. I’m sorry it’s wrong. I’m sorry it’s troubling. . . . I’m sorry it will continue.) On to where we were: But, the trouble with those big types of thoughts is that they come floating about – gentle little wisps at first, occasional fireworks, and often often more feeling than word and more image than sentence.
It’s difficult to put wispy little trails of smoke, a strange constricting of your lungs, and tears stinging the corners of your eyes into words. I want to. And, maybe I will; but not yet. Not today. Because today . . . I am packing for TEXAS.
I’ve never been, you know; and, it occurs to me that, perhaps, one can’t fully claim being an Ameri-can without having ever set foot in the state of Texas.
Which isn’t really why I’m going of course.
I’m going simply because the opportunity came. It came in the form of my dad offering to flip the bill for me, my mom, and three of my sisters to fly to Dallas to see our other sister! That’s a lot of sisters. (Though, I should add, that we will be just as eager to see my brother who is also a Texan these days – and who lives, as luck would have it, mere miles from my sister.)
I’ve been bustling about all day – anxious, nervous. I don’t know why. It seems like there is so much to do, when, in reality, I am probably making up things to do. Surely Mike would be able to find clothes for our younger kids if I hadn’t laid out outfits for the next several days. Surely the world wouldn’t end if the windows that are already messy are simply still messy when I return (rather than cleaned in a frenzied state of pre-trip jitters). What is all of this “doing” I’ve been up to anyway? Nervous energy? Once I am actually gone (and suddenly basking in the lovely rareness of “no responsibility”) I am fine. More than fine. WONDERFUL. But until I go, I do feel anxious. Anxious that everything must be done, and set, and taken care of . . . because . . . I take care of things. It’s what I do. And sometimes I find it hard to believe that things and mostly people (my people, my precious little people) can go on being taken care of in my absence!
There’s no arguing that.
So . . . off to Texas with me! (And it is going to be lovely. So so lovely.)
One, tiny, happy moment of . . . sort-of . . . warm weather:
(Where, pray tell, did that hair come from? Mine has never grown more than an inch or two beyond my shoulders and the whole of it can probably fit into the tiniest baby elastic you could find.)