The sweaty heat of the past few days has been drizzled away by a cloudy moody Monday. The dogs up the road were howling so Nala padded down to the driveway gate, lifted her head and joined them in a lonesome, oh-so-blue howling lament.
I've got David Gray playing, singing to the artist in me while the mother in me washes bottles and picks up Jack, who's a bit niggly because of his teeth, I think. I've been reading the latest Oprah magazine article on 'Living your best life' and while the cynical part of me is tired of over-used words like 'passion' and 'living your dream', the longing in me unfurls its leafy green head, seeking rich soil and a place to grow.
So I steal a few minutes in my study, while Jack roams around the room exploring and chatting away to himself. to blog these tendrils of thoughts. What to do when the longing in me needs solitude, time and space? Carve a little moment for myself, in between the mothering and the doing, to lay these feelings and unfinished sentences down, one at a time. I want to write more, to express myself more, so I start with a small brief blog entry. It's a bit like eating only the tip of a strawberry when what I want is a bowl full, drenched in cream, but at least it's something.
Off to change a nappy now...
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