do you ever wake up with anxiety? out of nowhere, trailing bits and pieces of your subconscious like the remnants of a traveling circus, torn and lackluster. the inefficiency of it worries me. no tangible problem attached to it, merely a feeling of something not quite right.
there are things to worry about, yes. there are always things to worry about.
and now i'm worried about not worrying specifically enough.
that perhaps there is an undercurrent moving towards my dangling feet. or something in the bottom of the lake, jason in a ski mask, waiting for me to take a summer vacation and play out every cliche i've ever known.
until i look at pictures of my life.
ben's daughter, azure, taught finn pattycake.
i met azure when she was finn's age. back when we spent a good amount of time in hollywood, right off sunset.she was on his shoulders, he had walked over with her from his apartment to talk to our acting coach, deke. she was large eyed and quiet, taking us in with a healthy amount of trepidation. all of us waving hands at her, tickling feet without permission. all of us in awe of her.
memorial day, we had a picnic. each of us, the adults, worn out yet intent on seeing each other.
i watched ben's daughter make my daughter giggle.
as i look at this now i realize my anxiety is born of these things. these perfect moments. because i want to slap my hands together and giggle and make them stay forever.
i want to remember how the baby on ben's shoulders stared me straight in the eye years ago, only to turn around as a young girl and hug me goodbye, thanking me for lunch.
i want to take these firsts of finn's and frame them. not just the pictures, but the moments themselves. wrap them in vellum, dated and archived. so that when she needs to be reminded that life is full of the most wonderful surprises, there they will be. curated and preserved.
or maybe i just need them for myself.