Life has turned into work & Noah. Family. The way I feel like a prole. Love my job, love my family, but yesterday I became sad that the best seems to be over & I feel like I don’t have a social life any more. My thoughts of you lost somewhere in too much to do, too much I want to do & don’t have time for. Work.
2010. A new decade. My son, 6 months old. A half year with you in it — hot did it go so fast? You’re amazing. Work is sucking me dry — project upon protect, caring too much. Noah brings me such joy every day.
A new semester begins tomorrow. A new class: journalism. Wanting to teach it, take the newspaper online and all that, but wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.
How will life feel different when Noah’s 1 year & it’s summer? I dream of a routine that allows me to write. I wonder what will be possible.
A long week followed by an even longer weekend. This lack of sleep thing wearing us down. Noah’s sick again. A cough/cold. Sick of him being sick & the cold weather. He’s 7 months in a week. My life feels too much work. Work & Noah. That’s it, most days.
15 years. It occurred to me today that I’ve known you for 15 years. Wrote a short poem. 15. All that has happened and did not happen.
*Note: I tried to find this “poem” but I could not.
To feel so deep
to look inside myself
& see your bones
your face in his singing
the words, singing the word lips.
I imagine your insides on
the outside, broken down
like a rag-doll model.