There and back

I haven’t written for days and now that I sit down I realize how essential it is for me to write - to get out those things lurking behind the bushes - flush out the wild - rouse and waken the birds inside me - call to the forgotten and the exiled and be alive to more than children and family.

These last two thing have been precious these last few days - children rising early to play with cousins - leaping out of bed - no need for their dada. This is happening more and more. They need me less in some ways - practical ways - but where do they need me more?

Physical affection towards my eldest, yes. More gentle play with my youngest, yes. Continued letting my daughter know how precious she is to me - daddy daughter days - Ae. So we go on - paying attention to that which calls.

When will these horrid dreams leave? The ones that keep reminding me of what did not work in the relationship? They seem to stand at my door and knock - saying: please know this - you shouldn’t be, can’t relate like this again - betray yourself for some fantasy - or some figment of your mother.

Ah, they keep coming back because their work’s still not done. I still desire e to turn myself over to another and thats very different to agreeing that my life is unmanageable and giving myself over to God.

I did that when I was 13 - now 44 - what is the new giving over? I know I need a higher power - this land - the glory of god in each bird call, in each sunrise. These things I will attend to just like I would my children.