the forest for the trees. even though when i look at the forest, i think of the dark and soft spots of humans that thrive on depravity and shadows that pierce and stab. i simply cannot enjoy the peacefulness of nature without thinking of it as a hiding place, a stomping ground for scars.
too many episodes of intervention, perhaps. too much crime drama on television. the entertainment of depravity and gore. i never minded horror films as a child but was terrified of remote locations.
it's crazy to think we can raise children in this world. it's crazy to think we could raise a child in utopian society. there are turning points for all of us that push us off the edge into the jagged cracks between things. i have mine. you have yours. this is the only truth i know. i cannot think of one person in my life who has a fairy tale childhood. or, if they do, they are unprepared for the evils of the world and unable to accept challenges and defeat. they are unaware of how good the small things can be. and yet...
as parents, don't we want to protect our children from the reality?
i do. and i don't. because i know that the real world will not help them stay pure. i know that one day soon, they will be tempted and they will be lured and they will be betrayed and i want them to hold their samurai swords at an angle over their hearts and dare someone to touch it with dirty hands. i want them to protect themselves without collateral damage. i want them to take no prisoners and yet keep themselves free. i want them to live with integrity and pride and just enough courage to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. i want them to love each other so much that they will stand up in the face of the wrong choice and dare it to wrap its tentacles around them. i want them to roar.
perhaps it's this last stretch of pregnancy. when i'm focused on housecleaning and organization because i think that somehow this will make my life easier once i have to navigate the space between us orbiting finn as the sun and tell her she has to share our universe with the moon.
i am taking these tiny moments, me sitting here writing, bryan working on his computer (but, really, he's reading about football. i just know it.) and finn is eating her sandwich in her underwear. the last few days of being an only child in our world. her dynamic is already changing beyond her control and i'm hoping she sees the love that starts to etch itself into our walls with this new baby and that her ribcage expands when she first sees her little brother or sister. i'm am hopeful for the forest. and the trees.