Mama, you are right where you are meant to be

I sit here, pen to paper – I write. Open to my heart taking this ink to where it needs to go; to let it roam through my mind – to see what corners it may reach.

Where in all this paper and ink, and thoughts sinking deep, is me?

Where am I?

What illusions or conclusions, or unwelcome intrusions of layers stacked high, am I hiding behind?

Where am I?

My eyes blink, another long night park bags underneath them. Suitcases filled with lullabies, cries for comfort, sacrifice, and silence to my own needs spill. These filled bags tell more than just the night before; they speak of the push and the pull, the fast and the slow. The way my heart grows – the ebb and flow. The contradiction that is Motherhood – the holding on, the endless lesson of letting go.

I pour my coffee, the water echoes loud as my babe sleeps. I sip, as I slip deeper into my mind’s flow. Around me are toys, and books, and bottles, and bibs – scattered in and between all kinds of things; and then there is me. I’m sitting in the middle of these tall white walls – a home.

A home built, not by the stone, and brick, and wood, and glass that holds it; a home built by all the ‘things’ that have unfolded within it – these walls. They speak of truth and magic, laughter and love – they whisper it all.

When I look around, I see a dance; a balance between them and I – a balance I can almost comprehend. Almost! These suitcases, and coffee sips, and silent thoughts while time slips, are all part of it – this dance of Motherhood. And when he sleeps – I miss him. And when he wakes – I wish he could sleep just. ten. minutes. more! An insatiable thirst.

The door to my heart is open, and this ink, and my tired eyes reveal to me – that it’s LOVE that conquers it all. Where am I?

I am here – right where I am meant to be.