It's late on a rainy night and I'm glad I'm not on a ship on the sea that I can hear roaring on the horizon. I'm glad to be upstairs, high and dry, in our cosy loft bedroom, with Jack making peaceful sleeping noises in his cot.
Part of me wants to wake him up so that we can play, part of me is telling myself I should have been asleep 2 hours ago and part of me feels the weight of the responsibility (with Joel being in Australia for another week or so) of being the one in charge, the grownup in the house, with a 7-month old baby who thinks the world begins and ends with me.
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Writing these little blog posts really fills a creative need for me and again I am reminded of how important it is to create something every day, to have a small slice of the day that is about being and reflecting, rather than doing, washing, feeding... and how all it takes is fifteen minutes here and there.
I was just about to crawl into bed tonight when I thought of how good I'd feel if I just spent a few minutes jotting some thoughts down here. I realise (again) how creative acts of existence, of human beingness, need not be too grand, too long or too complicated but they can be little titbits here and there, a gap taken in between chores, a ten minute delay in bedtime, a small soft breath in - that's all it takes to bring aliveness to the skin, fullness in the heart and a satisfied smile on the lips as I lay my head down.
