scribblechic

In all the busyness of moving there are unanticipated lulls; pockets of time where we sit still, share a laugh, or settle into conversations that drift aimlessly.

Today there was a single moment at the top of our stairs, you were stretched across a patch of sunshine on new carpeting. We talked about everything and nothing, but I was thinking of something I found while packing; an unintentional discovery.

I’ve given you journals for years, hoping to catch the evolution of your handwriting and the composition of your language for a time you cannot yet imagine; a paper trail to a simpler self. It was in one such notebook that my eyes snagged on a single passage on the only page of writing.

“… if I tell the story the other way then it will be like a piece of paper chewed up.”

Reading the surrounding sentences it was hard to tell if you were frustrated with my retelling of a story at a social gathering or an unsolicited suggestion for a written assignment. What lingered was the tone of a stubborn certainty and passionate conviction in your playful use of language; the intention in retraced letters and hastily erased strokes of pencil against paper.

It was none of my business, something I might not have discovered if I weren’t trying to make sense of misplaced items, but tonight it is the place my thoughts rest. A curious wondering and a happy mystery.

Love, Mom

Tagged: Daughter, Musings