Early Morning Musings

It occurred to me today as I watched my bio dad hook himself up to that oxygen machine, that I am not immortal, one day there will be nothing left but words on a page and a kind thought every now and then. It occurred to me today that one day the seeds I've sewn will no longer need my care. One day I'll be on the other side of it all and, hopefully the good one, the one with ice cream and my daddy, my dogs and my mama. It occurs to me that when that day comes, when that hour arrives, I want to have been that woman I've always talked about being instead of always wondering. Like he wonders.


He talks in rushed words and fluid motions, as if he's driven to speak every thought, every memory, every aspect of the him that once existed before he became the him that he is today. He pounds these stories into my head, my heart, the children, becoming one with us. These memories, this history of family and friends and adventure that created the man who lives now. It is at times like this I am most frightened. Most alone. With the house quiet and dark and I, the eternal insomniac, and he, the restless old man are left raw and alone, and soft. In the softness we can love and share and comfort and support, masks are placed aside and there is just him, Pop and I, Mare.

When daylight arrives, once again we will continue the job of living and creating the life of our small family, we will fight and we will laugh and we will enjoy. Now, we sit, he is silent in his sleep and I am silent at my keyboard, tomorrow will be another day.