coffee, ocean, mountain

the coffee is brewing. and it fills the room and i feel clean and rested and relaxed. even though i am none of these things. my tiny giant seven month old son was burning with fever last night and his hands on my chest while he was nursing left marks. i marveled. at his heat. at his body's ability to fight. at his sheer determination to stay awake through the night. his tiny little fingers. grasping the air. his cough. his sister waking up crying because she heard him and she is worried she forgot to tell me to sleep good. hours ago. i smoothed her hair and she rolled over onto her back and i thought about how quickly things change.

i planted tomato plants yesterday. and although the planting and dirt under my nails makes me feel calm, there is a cacophony of anxiety simmering underneath. because i am not good at growing, at cultivating. something always goes wrong and it ends up looking decayed, forgotten. unkempt. no matter how much or how little i water and i hear people talk about the simplicity of growing things and i think i must have been absent when they taught basic life skills on some level because i know how to navigate a grocery store produce aisle like a champ but cannot for the life of me make a fucking tomato grow to term.

i want to live closer to the ocean. where taking a trip to target for non-essential necessities is equidistant to the water. i think i will feel softer, quieter. i think my simmering has something to do with the water in my body bubbling to find itself in the air. the farther away i live from the ocean, the more afraid i am. of everything. i am not a mountain girl.