Recurring Dreams

May 29, 2014

There we go. This is a nicer little frame for my dusty old thoughts. The nice thing about having my own theme framework is having the ability to redesign my website in the amount of time it takes to watch an episode of Sherlock (BBC, Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, totally into it).

It’s a thundery summer afternoon, I am at the Too House while B. naps and L. watches Care Bears on the iPad and I work and answer emails. The rooms are sparsely furnished and it is quiet because of the rain and I’m knocking things off my to-do list but I can’t shake the shadow that has been following me all week.

I keep dreaming about my mother, and while I stopped looking for meaning in that awhile ago, the itching persistence of it nags at me and brings up all sorts of questions about my life and how I’m guiding my boys’ lives and too much philosophy when I’m otherwise engaged in the practical necessities of diapers, code, cooking, watering plants before they wither up.

I’m thankful for the rain.

I haven’t been sleeping, but B. has been sleeping beautifully. We take turns. If I were able to sleep, he’d be back to his old five-times-a-night waking routine.

It’s hard to get used to speaking in this space. I mostly talk to the boys all day. Every day, a little more, they answer delightfully back.