Journal Entry

I am sitting in a hotel room, alone.

I long for these moments. I had big plans for reading, working, writing…but now it’s 1130PM and I just want to crawl into bed.

Which I will do.

All my plans slipped away. Snow is falling here, and it is beautiful and mesmerizing and lovely. I found the anemic fitness center and did something good for my hormonal levels with 60 minutes of cardio work.

And I came to the computer, with visions of words floating out of the chaos of my head and onto the screen in some coherent string of sentences, full of meaning and sense and the tying of things together. So much of my thinking needs to be organized, and I do that best with the wrapping of the words around a paragraph form. Tying it together.

I am thinking of my children – my daughters, particularly, as two of them are together here. One happily settled in college life, hours full of challenging things to learn and heart full of beautiful friends she has come to love. The other investigating her future, trying to imagine herself here. Or somewhere else.

Another daughter is giving up her entire night – as in all night, overnight – to invest in a gathering of local kids. This comes on the heels of a plant-based diet, a new, disciplined lifestyle of eating, a renewed intellectual and spiritual pursuit that is as inspiring as it is delicious.

I am, often, in awe of my kids. My girls fascinate me. My boys do funny things to my heart.

I think, “I am their mother.” That has defined me. For twenty years, that has been the biggest, busiest, most real me.

But things are changing. I am changing. They are changing.

Lately I would tell you that I am desperately clawing for purchase on the side of a slippery slope, a tunnel smeared with slickness. Time, slipping away. Dreams, deferred. Vision, cloudy. Life, altered. Me, changing. And in all likelihood, over thinking it all.

But in the midst of all that motion, I’m feeling less of that desperate need to slow things down and a bit more acceptance. And a willingness to enjoy the ride.

I sat down at this desk and glanced up before I began to write. I saw my face, and for just a moment I was struck by the strange disconnect between what I feel and what I see.

And I wonder if the corner I turn now is one that carries this new me, this older person, this mother-of-grown-children (and two more still coming behind them…let’s not forget…) towards a new direction. I wonder if it’s possible to allow the lines on my face to represent a wisdom that has been earned (in some cases) and generously given (in others).

I wonder if maybe I might like this woman just as much as I liked that girl.

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