The apartment in Des Moines is clutter-free, light and airy. It's a perch, nearly a tower, three stories up in the trees. The boys are discussing fishing using fake accents and made-up words. The periodic wrestling matches shake the floor. Tickling, followed by fake roars and a fair amount of laughter emanate from behind me. The shower switches off. Tooth brushes are vibrating down the hall.
I sit in repose. I don't know exactly how one sits in repose, yet here I sit. I consider this rare Saturday away from home and outside my regular routine of running, running, running. Generally on mornings such as these I am ignoring the nagging sensation that I should clean up the house or at least fold some laundry. Various commitments loom ahead. Our modest home balloons to massive size with the list of things yet to do.
None of these commitments and lists exist in Iowa. This grand plain is a blank slate for my life. I have no one here save the three in this calm little space. Today sits before me in all its glory. This day is unclaimed, unplanned, untamed. Mine to live.
Stories to be written call to me.
I sit in repose. I don't know exactly how one sits in repose, yet here I sit. I consider this rare Saturday away from home and outside my regular routine of running, running, running. Generally on mornings such as these I am ignoring the nagging sensation that I should clean up the house or at least fold some laundry. Various commitments loom ahead. Our modest home balloons to massive size with the list of things yet to do.
None of these commitments and lists exist in Iowa. This grand plain is a blank slate for my life. I have no one here save the three in this calm little space. Today sits before me in all its glory. This day is unclaimed, unplanned, untamed. Mine to live.
Stories to be written call to me.
I see you're a mother of four! I'm a mother of three! Ah, the rewards and challenges while writing with so much noise.
ReplyDeleteI hope you're better at it than me! Solidarity!
ReplyDeleteJenna