Friday 31 December 2010

Love in the Snow



Disharmony


Two days of chilly shoulders and frosty undertones. No more snow outside. It has gathered on our hearts. 
We rally round our daughter, coaxing her from tears to joy again and again. It is exhausting, but she keeps us in some kind of contact.
The Solstice fire has died. Christmas has been unwrapped. Another year looms and I am unready to meet it.
Another 365 days of nappies and hoovering and washing up and surviving from coffee with a friend until a cup of tea at playgroup.
I feel physically dis-heartened. Something has gone so wrong. I am tired, but I am always tired and I didn't feel like this last week. I don't remember feeling like this since I have been in partnership with my husband who is usually such a source of joy for me. Today he is an irritant, possibly acidic. Not even a bath of asses milk would be balm enough. I need something else.


 Feeling Rather Tense


My husband needs something else too. And though I ache to give it, I cannot name it, much less find it in myself.
He cannot stay in a space with me. He laces his boots in a silent, depressed fury, kisses our girl who sits on my lap goodbye and opens the door to leave.
My breath stops. He has never, ever, refused to kiss me like this. A desperate voice  from inside me calls,
'I love you.'
The door shuts. The tears track my cheeks and I hug the baby tight as I watch him descend our steps.
He turns around. He'll take his bike; get further from me.
But no. He has opened the door again.
He is in the room.
He says,
'I love you too.'
More tears. And we tell of the mirrored smallnesses which have sucked the heat from our lives.
We kiss. Find resolutions. Find comfort in each other again.
There is a bright flame in the dark and we gratefully warm our hands; thaw our hearts.

Later, I ponder what had led us to that place. Many things, of course, had interwoven the net which caught us, but I see one thing clearly: I had forgotten my machete. When the world is tangled and dense and catches at my hair I have a tool which never fails me if only I remember to use it: I can write.
I recall evenings too busy and sociable or too tired and miserable to write my journal and the dream-binding which followed; which always follows.


I am a fool. If I achieve nothing else this coming year, may I remember that writing is not only my passion and my talent and, newly, my job. It is also my lifeline, the lighthouse beam which sweeps an arc accros the unknown so I can catch a glimpse of my mind-corners and chase the scuttling creatures away.

And I am wise. 2 days of iciness out of 365? We're not doing so badly. I did call out. And he did turn around. He is the source of much of my joy once again.

And all those nappies? That's where the real love is. One nappy at a time, I am saying to my family,
'I love you'.

In Love; At Peace

13 comments:

  1. I love how you poke fun at yourself in this post.
    I love the photos of you!
    and I love that you came back to what you know to be true for you.
    What a sense of humor you have.
    Happy New Year Lunar!

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  2. Ah, nappies!

    A Nappy New Year to you and yours.

    With much love,

    Paul, Ali & Sam (still providing much joy with nappies :)

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  3. Lunar,
    May your heart keep the darkness out
    may your strength keep your love growing
    And may your knowledge keep your family safe.
    Happy New Year
    Diana
    p.s. can't work out how to post this except as anon!

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  4. Thanks for sharing that lovely intimate little story .. and also for reminding me, as a writer too, of the power of our pens.

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  5. My heart stopped when you said he left without saying I love you. Then it grew three sizes when you said he came back to say it. How sweet.

    You're right about everything- the writing, the love, the nappies. The end of a year can be a hard time- it's good to take it easy on your loved ones.

    Blessings to you and your beautiful family in the new year.

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  6. Oh, yeah- thanks for your kindness! Your words really helped me along. Knowing that there's someone who's never met me, who's way out there in the world, dealing with their own problems, taking a moment to send some love and kindness my way is a miracle of goodness.

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  7. Welling up a little at all your lovelinesses. Thank you.
    Ramona, my sense of humour (often most importantly about myself) is another tool I use to creep towards sanity.
    Paul, a nappy new year to y'all too. May we actually meet again some day soon!
    Diana, right back at you! Thank you.
    Nazneen, I've just read your New Year's Wish post (http://artearthinksoul.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-years-wish-for-you.html). Thank you; I'm flattered :o).
    And Claire, it seems to me it is simply a miracle of good sense to fill this astonishing world of ours with all the love and kindness we can. Thanks for doing the same over there!
    x

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  8. Just had to view this post again! Instant grin to my face!

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  9. Ramona, my insecurity gremlin who lurks at the back of my mind sometimes wonders aloud whether these lovely comments are just that: lovely people being lovely to make me feel good. But it is powerless to explain why anyone would read a post of mine twice if they didn't actually get something of worth from it. Thanks for this peace while it's thinking :o).

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  10. Hello Luna, its Jim from Lampeter, I really enjoyed reading that story about you and tom, it was especially good to see the pictures of you all, its also good to know that me and becky aren't the only couple that has arguments and fallouts. Love from Jim and Becky :)

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  11. Hey Jim, Thanks. Hope you too are enjoying marriage. The photos were lovely. Happy living! x

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  12. I hadn't read this before, Luna. It came up as a "You Might Also Like" when I read your blog today. It's such a marvellous post. So honest, and raw and true. True of parenthood most of all. This is what the health visitors, your mum, your friends can't tell you; you can only know it when you've been there. I have, and I salute you xx

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  13. Salutin' right back, SG (and it's not often you'll find me doing that). Still changing those nappies; still loving my family. And hallelujah to that (although, we'll be potty training as soon as it's warm).

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