the slow process of becoming slow to speak – Isn’t there a time for everything?
I have seven minutes to write a post, but let me come here to process with you a bit the mess in my brain.
I woke up one morning, and I was a soccer mom. I was to rush my kids around town to get to the elementary school, to get to the store, to get to the gym. I was to clean my house at some point. I woke up, and I said – something feels off.
Community here at the apartments is beautiful. I’m excited to show you at some point. It’s consuming. It’s vulnerable. It’s on a dime’s notice. I wouldn’t trade a thing about it, not even all the dirty smudges on the carpet from the neighbor boys and our boys running in here before sticking their hands in our fish bowl.
Life has taken over, and usually when things settle, words flood in and wreck all the things I thought I thought. Right now the tide is sucking back, and its little wet fingers spread wide, trying to hold on to the shore.