here's something i know about writing: usually you need a point. like, a moral, or at least a punch line. sometimes it's so easy to have this nice little package of thoughts with the a-ha moment neatly tucked in at the end. sometimes vignettes just happen to me and all i have to do is record them. the plot is all lined up complete with climax and resolution.
i guess that's it- the resolution. the coming together or throwing apart- but when you are the end you are ready for it.
maybe this is why i write- the ability to resolve conflicts, the power to wrap up life into paragraphs. the need to have things have a beginning, a middle, an end.
because in real life it just all flows together, doesn't it?
the endings of one moments mesh with the beginnings of another and most times the moral is: keep going. just keep going.
other times there are moments of peace- like that still point between a wave pulling back and rushing forth. in that moment i try to make sense, to slow it down, to write it down because then it can be absorbed, savored, honored.
i sat down and opened the blog page because i wanted to write- but i had no story. nothing but a need to construct. a need to resolve. part way into it cyrus wanders in and asks for cereal. since he went to bed at 6 pm he was up at 3, and cereal at 4:40 makes sense. after i poured in the flakes, sprinkled the raisins, soaked 'em in milk, i turned to leave the kitchen. through a sliver crack in the curtain the moon, full and glowing, caught my eye, my heart.
"cyrus!" i called as i opened the front door, "look at the moon! isn't she beautiful?"
he came over to me, cereal in hand, and looked up at her.
"it's bright!" he observed.
"it's the full moon!"
"it will squish you," he cautioned.
"i love her" i said in response.
"i know you love her" he calmly stated as he walked back inside crunching his flakes.
and that's the moment. that's the resolution. that my 2 year old son knows that i love the moon.
it's all wrapped up nicely.
now time for tea.