Lindsay and I sat in Ella and Ava's room after we got Ella from her nap. It was dimly lit by the afternoon light sneaking its way through the venetian blinds. Ella cooed her hellos as she does when she wakes from her nap to find both mommy and daddy looking down at her in her crib. I picked her up and we greeted her with our kisses and touches of affection. She happily accepted, being well rested, and motioned to sit on the floor with her books.
Lindsay sat on the bed and I in the rocking chair. We looked at each other. There was a moment of silence. It was peaceful for a brief moment; the world outside made its presence unknown. It was different from any other silence we have experienced together.
Lindsay spoke first. She uttered the words that have been recently swirling in and out of my own thoughts. When those words left her mouth and travelled across the small room, reaching my ears and grabbing hold of my thoughts, I couldn't help but stare deeply into her eyes and silently agree with every part of my essence. Before I could think of a response my mouth was already telling her that I felt the exact same way. Silence ensued, for there were not any words that could have been sufficient for the explaining of what we both felt.
"I've changed" were the uttered words.
There is no doubt that our experience up to this point and the experiences we will encounter are ones that few will know. The words that the English language lends us fail in their attempt to communicate the emotional spinning that is taking place in our lives. Our heads are spinning in one direction and our hearts in another...each seeking the other for reconciliation within their spin, they take us and leave us with the promise of more spinning. A never ending cycle, if you will.
The changes we are feeling as a couple, as parents, and as individuals were expressed more by the gaze we locked into for those brief seconds in the dimly lit room than by any words that we might seek to use. The only sound for those few moments was that of Ella "reading" her book and Ava turning the pages of hers. I knew exactly what Lindsay was telling me and she knew what I felt as well.
I wish I had the means to grab a hold of my thoughts and my feelings with something more than mere words or outward expressions...I have not that capability.
I only have what I have.
How do I~~
plan for her future,
as time spreads so thin and fine.
How do I~~
hold her in my arms,
while she's slipping through my grip.
How do I~~
take my mind away,
when the pressing never leaves.
How do I~~
find the words to say,
along the roads that have never been.
plan for her future,
as time spreads so thin and fine.
How do I~~
hold her in my arms,
while she's slipping through my grip.
How do I~~
take my mind away,
when the pressing never leaves.
How do I~~
find the words to say,
along the roads that have never been.
How do I~~
take it as my head spins one way
& my heart, the other.
How do I~~
provide what they need,
when the needs outweigh us.
How do I~~
provide what they need,
when the needs outweigh us.
How do I~~
keep my children safe,
knowing what I know.
How do I~~
reach for what is there,
without dropping what I have.
How do I~~
wake up in early morn,
once sleep has eluded me.
How do I~~
say that it's alright,
as gravity pulls her in its grip.
How do I~~
seek the silent peace,
once promised from afar.
How do I~~
take one day at a time,
without it taking me alive.
How do we~~
watch our child struggle,
as she watches us weep for her?
reach for what is there,
without dropping what I have.
How do I~~
wake up in early morn,
once sleep has eluded me.
How do I~~
say that it's alright,
as gravity pulls her in its grip.
How do I~~
seek the silent peace,
once promised from afar.
How do I~~
take one day at a time,
without it taking me alive.
How do we~~
watch our child struggle,
as she watches us weep for her?
