pieces

I've started and stopped numerous blog posts in the past two weeks.
I've also come up with five million different things that I want to write about and explore.

But to be honest, every time I find a moment to sit down at my computer (which has become quite rare), I just stare, and stare, and stare at the blinking cursor and wonder what on earth to write down.

I could talk about the endless anxiety I experience thinking about all of the things that could befall my husband and son, and how every day I must make a conscious effort to step out of my front door and not let that anxiety rule my life.

I could talk about the unbelievably dramatic way that my son has forced me to stop and live in this moment, right now. The way that I see him growing and changing so much already, and the second I start to contemplate what he will be like next week or next month, I make myself stop and appreciate where I am now. He is already slipping away into a different person, and is growing right before my eyes, and my biggest regret would be to overlook any of that.

I could talk about the fire I have to write, and write well. I could talk about how I recently discovered this blog, and the way that it has changed my thinking, as well as the tinge of jealousy I have every time I read it, because I so long to be able to communicate the way she does. Will I ever have that moment? Will I step up and fulfill that dream of mine?

I could talk about how my center of gravity has shifted to this baby I hold in my arms and love so much that my heart feels like it's going to explode. How being a mother is perfect, and how I wonder why I was so afraid that it would be so unfulfilling. It is the best thing I've ever done, and also the most simple, while carrying incredibly complex emotions behind it.

I could talk about it all, but instead, I am simply sitting here with my thoughts spinning so quickly that it is nearly impossible to catch one of them and make it coherent.

Maybe I'll get there one day.

Or maybe it will simply be the trying, and I'll be one voice in a background of many, hoping that someone will pick it out and want to listen.