why I’m here, to peek at the cusp of dreams


I know better than to be up this late, but I promised myself I would write. And it’s just now that I’ve found the space. A room of her own. Trying to become a sharp one-hand typer, I have the corner of a pillow-mounded bed and a baby held to my chest, so little time till my mind dreamjumps into the falling rabbit hole of pocket-watches and potions.

Quickly! Quickly! Say it.

Adding another child makes the world small, shrinking, closed in. The little things in my space can become so large. We consume moments like we own space.

His soft eyes stare through mine like he hooped through galaxies to find and to be found.

And in a flash,  the time it takes to type one word with one hand, so long and slow. The enormous keys are hard to find.

With effort, a word can carry such gravity that it breaks breastbones and lets the artist out. The one you knew was in there when you tried to draw Eden but couldn’t.

I want to see you crack. I want to speak blessing over you. I want to watch you paint. Be art and mirror Artist.

This is the entire reason I’m here.

linking with my lovely friend Heather and others with her who just want to write
amberhaines
About me

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19 Comments

Galit Breen
Reply September 13, 2011

Yes, this. The small world of mothering, the wide world of writing. Gorgeous.

Southern Gal
Reply September 13, 2011

The way your thoughts make it to paper (keyboard) cause me to catch my breath. Hooping through galaxies to find and be found? Your words are balm to the soul. You are accomplishing your reason for being here.

Joy
Reply September 13, 2011

There it is. It is the thought that takes my breath away sometimes, when I let myself open...but most of the time I am consumed with the laundry and the job I hate and just how many dirty hineys there are with six kiddos....oh, you have cracked me open here in this moment. (as you always seem to do.)

Bridget
Reply September 13, 2011

Even amidst the chaos of a big family, it seems that with each child we welcome into our world, things get more and more simple. Somehow, as we grow...we realize that we don't "need" quite so much.

Amy
Reply September 13, 2011

So beautiful. Just love this!

Jo
Reply September 13, 2011

"His soft eyes stare through mine"

Happy sighs. This is lovely.

Ellie
Reply September 13, 2011

"His soft eyes stare through mine like he hooped through galaxies to find and to be found."

This is one of the most beautiful sentences I have ever read.

Thank you for sharing this - it is breathtaking. Truly.

-Ellie

Ashleigh Baker
Reply September 13, 2011

"...like he hooped through galaxies to find and to be found."

Oh my heart.
This makes the small world of it all seem broad as the universe, those galaxies. The art of mothering is so much bigger than the world in which we paint it.

Jessica
Reply September 13, 2011

Oh, I love this...

ML@My3LittleBirds
Reply September 13, 2011

Beautiful words. You have a lovely perspective on finding a balance between mothering and writing.

Heather of the EO
Reply September 13, 2011

I can't stand it. I just can't. The way you say things? Oh Amber, it's just such a gift to the world. Thank you.

Erin
Reply September 13, 2011

sigh.

Krista
Reply September 13, 2011

Wow. Breathtaking. And perfect. I remember so many days of typing one handed. And they were just. like. that.

Adventures In Babywearing
Reply September 13, 2011

Your words are absolutely delicious.

Steph

Casee
Reply September 14, 2011

Sweet Mama,
You rock the pixels, like whoa.
Thank you.

Liz
Reply September 14, 2011

I remember moments like this. Stunning.

Melissa
Reply September 14, 2011

That was one beautiful piece of one handed writing!

Arianne
Reply September 15, 2011

perfection. <3

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