misplaced memories
May 29, 2015 § 2 Comments
The neighbor woman leaned precariously over a nondescript blanket pulled across a corner of shade, the bend of her torso and angle of her head drawing me to a curious intrusion. I marveled at the balance of tension and peace, stillness and movement in the lines of her posture. As I lingered over the image tiny arms and legs batted at the sky and I remembered the shape of my own memories.
In much the same way my body sways to the distant cry of another child, I still feel the warm weight of my children against empty arms. The tired muscles and eyes heavy with sleep are ghosts of days long past; a story I tell without the ache of remembering. The phases of hopeless frustration and anxious uncertainty are only words in a hollow telling.
Then a stranger lost to an extraordinarily unexceptional moment rustles memories that scrape against the tenderness of slumbering emotions and everything past rushes into the present until this moment is not big enough for all that I remember. Today and yesterday feel jumbled in disarray and I cannot untangle grief and joy from the knot in my heart that catches in my throat.
scribblechic 
In time, though, comes a new thought, a new feeling comes and with it the hopes of the new day.
There is a beautiful balance to a mindful presence and tender remembrance as we sweep through sentimental stages of childhood and motherhood.