Sometimes I forget that the most beautiful thing one can be is exactly who they are. The Who that is the child: quick to trust and quick to forgive, and quick to seek new adventure. This child has no thought for appearance smudges or moles that suddenly arrive on one's face. This child is ever present, ever honest, and ever seeing.
--Thank God for humor and for MAC photo booth warps. They make for hours of entertainment. Seeing Donovan with his never-ending forhead in this picture makes me miss him at school. As Dave said, he's like the working man at our house. He gets up early, commutes to "work", and rides the bus home 8 1/2 hours later. He's the provider-man going out into the world and we pepper him with questions upon his return. No wonder he craves his quiet drawing time as soon as he's home. When I ask him to help in the kitchen, it's like I'm tearing him away from his one true love: the freedom to do what he wants for the first time all day.
I'm singing again now, and sensing old fears rising their heads to the challenge like sunflowers. I want to breathe, relax, and soar, and be kind to myself... but it's strange how it's still such a mystery.
I'm going to Calgary tonight to see a play. We're taking some students with us in our van. Why does it still scare me? All the traffic, the high speeds, the city... I'm afraid we'll die and the boys will be left. I'm such a wreck in the car in the city now. That's what I get for living in a small town for so long. I think it's been 12 years since I've seen a TV show.
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