Category: compassion

…and while I write he draws sunflowers: Post-pardonne moi #3

March 7, 2018

Tonight I held my son wrapped in a towel after the bath. I held him there tightly so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in my eyes. We have just come back from seeing Papa, Papa who is away for 6 weeks working out of town and we at the 3-week mark, going to visit. But not all goes according as planned and we found ourselves watching TV and convalescing on the beds in a hotel room – with a boy too sick and fevery to wander the streets after breakfast. And the departure, ever bittersweet, left me heavy with the burden of a working mom, celebrating two days of not planning dinners and making a lunch and yet the break, the lounging in bed while my son twirled my hair, cold facecloth compress on his head was hardly a break at all.

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Trapped: release the subconscious from suffering

June 7, 2017

On Sunday I woke in the night from a disturbed sleep. I had been hovering in the in-between state for a while – that space between dreams and being awake, conscious that if I just opened my eyes, the thoughts that were haunting me, would end. We’d heard the news, of shameless attacks on humanity in London the night before, but we didn’t have all the details, mostly b/c the intelligence that goes into finding the culprits were looking to solve whodunit. But also, in this house, I turn the radio down when the news comes on.

My anxiety over world events is one thing, but I’m cautious of what my four year old will hear and digest and ruminate on. All in due time, I think. I was/do/attempt to hold a space for the spirit of childhood. To create gardens and tell stories and build towers while counting to 50 or higher, to learn in a warm (and by that I mean humbled, safe, not sheltered) space as much as possible. We see it all, he’ll know it all to well, soon enough. In due time.

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