I know the delight of color. Of cherry red and apple green. Of cornflower blue and bright tangerine. I know a lemon tree against a blue fall sky.
I know Nico’s toes, baby toes, filthy with dirt from the park yesterday. I know his hands too, reaching into every hole, excavating pieces of plastic and torn balloons. I know the way his eyelashes look when he cries, like two little wet horns.
I know how to hover.
I know that clench in my belly, the jump in my heart, the shot of adrenaline when Ben falls, for any reason, to this day. How I immediately think he had a seizure, that he’s unconscious, and how he has learned now to say, I’m okay mama. I’m okay, when he sees that look in my eyes.
I know Matt and the joy he will feel when he gets the card Ben and I made him this morning in secret. How we used every marker we could find, swaths of blue, green, orange and yellow, how we covered every inch of that envelope and placed a simple card inside that said: This is the best day ever.
I know the feeling of new love, of meeting someone for the first time, of inching your fingertips closer to theirs.
I know being tipsy at a bar, probably in a foreign country with a friend, that friend who is wilder than you, who will lead you into some kind of adventure.
I know great design.
I know color.
I know, like I know how to spell, when something is beautiful.
I know my great uncle, the one who worked in textiles, who was known to snip off relatives’ ties if they were ugly and bring them a new one.
I know dreams fulfilled.
And those that have yet to come true.
I know the fear of, Is it too late? Have I blown it?
I know the surrender of no longer wondering if you made the right choices,
but continuing to move forward anyway.
I know how it feels to hold onto a grudge, and then one day to realize it’s gone, that maybe you forgave.
I know the lightness I felt afterwards.
Like I didn’t know I had been bicycling on two flat tires, and then with some oxygen,
a lift and I could sail forward again.
Just sitting here shaking my head yes to so much of what you write, and really appreciating this description:
Like I didn’t know I had been bicycling on two flat tires, and then with some oxygen,a lift and I could sail forward again.
I know that I’m happy to “know” you.
What a treat it was to get to read about some of the beautiful things you know.
Sending love to you on this September Tuesday,
I very recently found your blog and your words are beautiful and meaningful..
I know..that I shall be back, thank you..
Thank you for sharing, tears welled up and today I needed to read this.
I know you’re extraordinary.
I know we all are.
This is absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful. Powerful. Inspiring. Giggle-producing. Tear-inducing. Unforgettable. Perfectly rendered.
Just like you.
I know I love coming to your blog. Reading your words is like listening to music. I appreciate the honesty of what you have to say, and it never fails to move me, inspire me, and make me think and reflect on my own life.
Waiting patiently for the inevitable superhero book.
This. Is. Beautiful.
i know i love experiencing your knowing. thank you.
Beautiful. Thanks for the post.
I know that I really appreciated reading this today.
Thank you for that.
What Chris said!
You’re on a roll, mama! Love!
just turning on the faucet over here.
Phoooooooooooooosh! That’s the sound of all the air flooding out of my chest while I read this, and then pouring back in and filling it up twice as big. GORGEOUS!
Beautifully written lovely lady! xox
I know that I would have never heard of the Weepies without you.
I know that I would have loved your uncle.
I know that my life is better knowing you are in the world.
I know that someday I will visit San Francisco and while I am there I will invite you and SARK to tea. I really hope you can make it.
what a beautiful burst of zesty writing 🙂 thank you!
The other day, my husband and I were driving over a hill facing the mountains in Santa Barbara. We were coming from a part of town that was overcast, a bit dreary with clouds. But on those mountains the sun glowed in patches. Instead of the words, “Look at those beams of sunshine!” coming out of my mouth, I somehow said in their place, “Look at those hopes of sunshine!” That little slip of words actually made me see the sun and the world so differently in that very moment.
Your words are like hopes of sunshine.
I know I’m glad you’re online for me to read and to be cyber friends with for all these years.
And I know I choked up immediately at your description of that feeling you get when Ben falls…I know that feeling all too well and you described it so exactly that it warmed my heart that someone else KNOWS just what I feel at those kind of moments with my Sarah. And, yet, I hate that you do as well. I feel your pain, literally.
Love to yor.
I know that I am so happy I got to meet you in person last weekend…you are such a lovely person…
I know your great uncle must be amazing…and I would have loved to have had a tie
I know you must be a great mom and wife…
I know from your words that you are a kind and loving person.
Wow… You are amazing!
It is lovely.
Such a wondeful way to start my Sunday Morning. Thank you, and now I am missing my SX-70 too. 🙂
damn nation girl! i really needed this. you rock. i hope sleep comes your way tonight. it’s oh so painful to be without. x