I used to write more - When my life was all about me and my daily task list made no mention of changing diapers or chasing after small children. Ah, yes, I remember that time, a time when I was not interrupted by tattletaling or "mommy, I need..." Mommy did not exist as part of my identity yet.
And I could sit and write and spill out all my thoughts, even in the middle of the day. And I'd be surrounded by a silence that I could dive into and drown myself if I wanted to, discovering fragments of me as I swam through my thoughts - silvery and gleaming like the scales of a fish. It was a time of huge reflection, one when I often lost myself a dozen times but only found me again just a few. One when the rawness of my nature poured out around me..easily flowing, unencumbered by sticky hands to clean or hungry mouths to nurse at my breast.
I could soak for hours in a stillness, finding my way through an emotion - the Sadness, a happy thought, fearfulness of my future....And I'd purge myself of so many things just by putting ink to paper. I could find more time, as much as I needed, if I wasn't satisfied with the first release.
But there were no tiny fingers pulling at me to help them, to hold them, to love them.
And there were no beautiful blue or brown eyes shining with innocence, tearing up my heart with their convictions and love.
And I was lonely. Yes, back then I was so lonely. I had all that time but no one to share it with. And I was not needed. And I did not feel loved. I had no idea who I was. For my words did not tell me much more than how I felt and what I wanted, and now that I think about it, underneath those words I somehow always spelled out a desire for a family, babies to love, little hands to hold.
My words often painted pictures of a broken life, which needed something more than I could give it on my own. Then with a flex of God's hand, a blink of His eye, I was moved beyond that life to this place, to this moment, to this me.
And I am a mommy. My list of daily tasks does include changing diapers and chasing after children. My children.
And I write when I am able to. For now, it is enough.