Apr

28

Strength training

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There are a thousand and twelve things I keep meaning to do like paint my toenails go to the post office vacuum out my car but everything takes time and even though it often feels like I have it in spades the hours are actually slippery and ever-moving and there’s never enough in one day. Even the most glacial periods are tricky in that I grit my way through them thinking god is it bedtime yet then scramble because they’re gone.

I feel frantically busy but stationary all at the same time and I crave the feeling of movement. My day is filled with duty and tedium and enjoyment and laughter but no forward momentum: a hamster on a wheel. I turn on DVDs and jump around the living room to banish the sensation of paralyzed limbs, of feet that fell asleep despite the long road beneath them.

My boys are like something enormous and spectacular mined from the depths of the earth, faceted and painfully glorious, heavy and burdensome. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. This is so hard to carry. We hold them high and march through the days, bearing that which we love beyond all measure. My arms tremble.

I am so much more capable than I have ever been. I am weak and filled with shortcomings. I am a flexing muscle, aching under an indescribable, joyous weight.