Tuesday, October 7, 2014

In Which I Return

I want to write
I want to run
I want to be outside
I want to enjoy campfires and singing
I want to play piano
I want to play guitar
I want to write beautiful letters with loops and swirls and sharp pointed lines
I want to bake
I want to cook
I want to wake up early and enjoy a cup of coffee in fuzzy boots and a warm sweater
I want to read
I want to have real conversations about real things
I want to laugh at silly things
I want to love my dogs
I want to watch old movies
I want to be present with my daughter
I want to enjoy the little things and stop writing lists about never ending wishes
I want to stop copying other people and just be myself
I want to stop wishing to create moments and just fucking have them
I want to have a pie chart of my daily activities and keep my days full of important things
I want to have zero pie charts and just live my life as it comes to me
I just want to be.
Me.

Lately I feel like I have so many things to get out, so many things to do, so many goals I want to achieve, so many things I want to learn. I can't do them all. I can't barely even do one or two of them. And then I think, maybe I don't really want to do anything. Maybe I just want to be. I want to be with my daughter and see her face turn up in a smile when she turns the pages of a crisp new book, or hear her little bird laugh as she takes drunken toddler steps across the creaking wooden floor. I want to go outdoors and just enjoy the sun, and listen to the leaves whispering to me. I want to enjoy beauty, instead of constantly trying to create it. 

I'm working on this.