As the night descends into its depths, and the images and sounds that remain get just that much more clear, one can begin to hear the gentle breathing of ones soul.
As I view the bright lights of the wallpaper on my desktop, I think over why I have forsaken my words for so long.
Yes, I have had a second child, and yes, two children are ten times more work than one. Yes, I am working, and trying to keep up with my life. But must I forsake all I hold dear?
My words used to be my life, my reason, my definition of me.
Yet, caught up as I was in the daily routine of living, I had abandoned them. Was it an abandonment of me? Had I forsaken myself?
Last night, as I lay beside my sleeping baby, I wrote some prose in my head. It wasn’t amazing, or great even. But it came spontaneously. And I recognized it as my own work.
But I did not have the physical strength at 2:00 in the morning to get out of bed and put it down on paper. And I knew that if I left the side of my baby, he would wake up again, and my 90 minutes of hard work would go to waste.
And so I lay there, trying to hold onto those words, trying to commit them to memory. And when I opened this Word document just before midnight today, my intention was to commit last nights’ words to my computers memory.
But I couldn’t even remember the theme of my words, the rhythm, the sequence.
I mourn the loss of those words.
I promise to try to never forsake my words again.
Disjoint Wisdom 
One response to “Coming back into myself”
I empathize. I've lost so many words, that I now keep a journal with me wherever I go as a dam to catch the flood. 😀
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