The phone call lasted nearly an hour and I thought; Wow, can we not talk like this when we are face to face, why now? The supper was needing to be made and baby needed a diaper change. Boys were home from school and they needed after school snacks and the odd job that was left till now was still lingering.
I will talk sure I will talk but I will guard my words, so that they are not judged harshly, or that my words are not a vending competition in future conversations.
Conversation words are only words and yet they have so much importance in our very being. We can look at so many different languages and know that in each and every one that the main goal is communication.
I do not know how to communicate as a tool for everyday life I know how to communicate for survival. Body language is another form of communication that can be read and misunderstood so many times in one day.
Hubby is home now the supper is wafting to the doorway and his hands are cold as he reaches for a hug. But I am typing and I am enjoying typing so taking a quick loving second he reaches around my middle for a warm snuggle and then he just carries on with other after work tasks until supper will be served.
The sounds from everyone in our house are coming in waves now almost like colours sometimes silence can be deafening though. When I hear sounds I try to pick out my favorite and concentrate on them, piano , laughter, wind are all sounds I enjoy.
Giggling, yelling, stomping, play fighting, and yes crying & screaming from the sounds of fighting are common amongst little children especially brothers or even babies when they are inconsolable. Sometimes when I long for silence I fear that I like quiet so much because of the noise that was a constant in my home growing up. We would hear yelling, screams of help, bottles smashing, doors slamming, t.v. blaring, and of course children were to not be heard or seen unless they were being beckoned for chores or meals.
Bedtime was deliberate, no hugs, no stories, if we were not quick enough we could not even change into p.j.s. Rarely were there bath times and once or twice a month was common. In the morning when it was time to wake up if we did not respond to our name in an instant we could be forced to do chores outside, until breakfast.
I remember piling wood in the middle of winter in my p.j s and mittens, hating life and looking forward to escaping away for a full day of school.
Wow did I love school, it is fun to see the boys and their different outlooks on school days. One even likes math and spelling a lot. I loved math and spelling, so much I looked forward to math competitions and spelling bees. So fun. Another loves gym, running and competing. Again this was something I looked forward to too. And yet another likes the drawing and creating that he does in some parts of the day, as well as the music. I know that comes from my husbands love of the arts.
Supper is ready.
Baby is needing a bottle or something to eat as well she is cranky from a short nap and fun playtime is not an option.
Everyone is getting ready for the children's bedtime.
I am pondering what to do after hours, go to work or keep writing, maybe relax with something mindless and not thought provoking or now keep writing after a glass of wine has been poured.
Mentally I am still recovering from a loss of a friend and a long trip to a far off town which has left me hoping for rest and solitude as well as rest for the all of the family. We really had a very peaceful drive to and from our destination but the events have left us all feeling like a battery that needs to be recharged. At night when I dream it is blackness and yet it is still dreaming, I seem to be trying to make up my own dreams and yet hoping that someone else does the portrait for me.
I was thinking as I often do playing on the floor with baby when one of my sons came to me broken hearted. He had tried to wash his portrait of him and his daddy with water and unbeknown st to him had not realized that indeed he had washed it clear away. The picture lay in his hands displaying all that was left, which was, smudges of colours that were once there.
We managed to find another picture of him with his daddy and framed it so that when it got dirty he could just wash the glass off. He is always wanting to be clean; clean hands, clean face, clean clothes. Hopefully it is not a paranoia.
I am paranoid of bats flying anywhere 100 miles near our home let alone the thought that they may be in this town. There must be a home near ours because at night if I am taking the garbage out I hear a swish of wings, they have to be wings, and a squeak, Ahhhhh, yes a shriek lets out of my throat as I trip over nothing in the snow and come in mad and cold and wet but safe from the predators.
What could possibly be worst than the paranoia of predators of any kind, we would write a whole report together on the many versions of predators so lets change the subject.
Mm mm chocolate and coffee. Can you love some things too much, probably? Endangered species chocolate and fair trade coffee, wonderful objects of pleasure.
Moments of other pleasures have been when the sun hits the ocean in the morning right after sunrise, and there is a blanket over my shoulders or oars in hand as we glide over the water. Climbing a mountain in the wee hours of the day just to get to the peak before sunrise and see all those colours. Walking in forest paths and smelling moss as it wafts to your nose. Seeking out treasures in old forests where the trees have seen so many years go by. Finding waterfalls that have caves inside of them and paths beside them to explore. Going skinny dipping, searching for seashells in the sand, these are all events that I miss dearly.
Thoughts and allegations this post was called but really it is a stream of consciousness, meant to let you in on my mind and how it can stream in an hour of writing.
Let me know what you think.*
