At twitlight

19/Aug/2011

at the beach

I hear my family upstairs. There are squeals, laughter, delight. The radio is blaring through the built-in speakers of our bedroom window, opened even though this last August air is chilly. There is chasing above. I sit on the patio as Ben Folds plays via iPhone. I work a bit. I delight in my job. I ponder the day. I drink a good beer.

I once read, “To be in harmony with the universe is to be like floating: Doors open, opportunities arise and you take them without thought.” That is happening to me as of late. Doors seem to bust open. Life seems to beacon me. COME! COME LIVE!

“When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens.” -Anne Lamott

I am exceedingly happy at my upcoming opportunities. I am living a day job of merriment. I am watching my children ride their bikes without training wheels and smiling at their accomplishments. I am aging in my own body and appreciating it more daily. I am realizing the future may not be as I always expected but that the universe offers more than I can ever hope or dream. Without being cosmically ridiculous, I can say without a doubt that those who dream big live big.

I want to dream big.

There is a song that plays on a loop. “He grown up just like me.. he grown up just like me…” I like to push it down as Catholic guilt. I like to play the cosmic Pause button on my children’s life. I try to justify my happiness but it’s a fleeting thought. I know the twilight will come and the dark will bring the guilt, the questions, the second guesses. The summer hours are easier, the light is longer, the days last forever, the children ask why they need to brush their teeth so early? But I know change is inevitable. The dark is around the corner. The fall brings the promise of another dark winter. The belief that floating on the joy of the universe is short lived and nine months of rain is inevitable.

As a child I loved sitting on the curb of my small Houston home. I would watch each street light turn on without a single person manning the switch and I would question things like timing, daylight, darkness. As an adult I understand timers, automation, disengagement. I hope I always sit on the curb as the sun sets wondering what is next, what is past, and look forward to the next day of laughter, giggling, squealing. If I leave my children with but one thing it would be that: To float on the universe’s evening and trust the morning that follows. It always follows.

Doesn’t it?

Hi

12 guests here now.

Comments

  1. As I head into my teaching internship, I can genuinely say:  I needed to read this post today.  Thanks!

    By CitricSugar on 2011 08 19

  2. and you have no idea how much I needed to hear that. smile Thank you! XO

    By Leslie Flinger on 2011 08 19

  3. I’m torn between this post of big dreams and your last post of overwhelmed expectations and responsibilities. We have to juggle both, I know. Dream big. Crash hard. It’s how we roll.

    Miss you. I might be coming to Seattle in early October. Will you be home?

    By Megan Jordan on 2011 08 30

  4. Hey Lady!!

    I’m in Tokyo this week for work. I’m fucking ecstatically happy. I’ll be in Germany at the end of September and in NY in the middle of October so I *think* I should be in town at the start of October. (Seriously, I’ll explain all of this new travel stuff soon but short version: AWESOME GIG and fucking hell I’m in love with my life now.)
    Lemme know when you come to town! You need a place to stay? You coming for anything specific? Where can I hump your leg?
    XXXX

    By Leslie Flinger on 2011 08 31