I Wanted to Write

Too many days without writing causes words to swim the streams of my veins, forming sentences in my lungs. I gasp for air, only to cough up clauses, fragments of what I want to say.

Stories settle in my stomach. Images ride the thump of my heart, like a swing, back and forth, never traveling beyond the confines of my mind.

So it goes these days, as I read books or scroll through updates when I have a rare moment alone. I don't pick up my notebook. I don't open my laptop. I don't release the words to paper or chase letters across the keyboard to make meaning out of memories.

And the more days that pass the easier it is to say, "I'm not a writer anyways."

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And yet I wanted to write about the twelve eagles that Olive and I watched circle above Resurrection Bay, the way they reminded me of the ease of unplanned social gatherings prior to Covid 19. The surprise of so many bald and immature national birds in one spot. Were they just as excited to see each other as I will be when I can finally flock to family and friends? What stories did they share? What emotions rode those currents above the sea?

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I wanted to write about Elias adjusting to so many changes, without a violent outburst since Thanksgiving. And I didn't want to write about Elias adjusting to so many changes without a violent outburst since Thanksgiving-- because I don't want to jinx it. But since Thanksgiving!!!!

My shoulders no longer live in my ears. Dirt replaces the eggshells under my feet. Elias could still scratch my eyes out tomorrow. He may swipe at me on Mother's day, his angry voice unrecognizable from the sweet boy most folks know.

Or maybe, just maybe, this streak of civility will linger longer than I dare hope.

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I wanted to write about our new puppy, Hemlock, the one we didn't plan to adopt.

Ever since our late dog Tonsina died last summer, our other Border Collie, Lola, prefers to spend time either outside or at Cuzuncle David's with his two dogs. Lola slinks under the porch, only stays in the house if we close the dog door, and then she follows us around panting with worried eyes.

We said we weren't ready for another dog. We said we weren't going to get a puppy.

And then our friend Jen posted a picture a four-month-old Sable Border Collie and next thing we knew we were driving to Moose Pass to meet her. That was all it took. We adopted Hemlock two weeks ago.

Today she made it to Tonsina Point for the first time. (We named our first dog Tonsina after this beloved beach and trail, back when living beside it was still a dream we didn't believe possible.)

The wind howled in greeting. I think it might have been Tonsina letting us know he approves.

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I wanted to write about that fine balance in life between spontaneous action and careful planning and how some of my best decisions emerge from my heart leaping before my brain restrains it, from moving to Alaska, to conceiving Elias, to adopting Hemlock. But planning has brought me equal joy, most notably Olive, the daughter we longed for but never could have imagined.

The trick is knowing when to free fall and when to make lists, or maybe, its the ability to forgive yourself when you screw it all up.

The trick is finding grace regardless of the outcome, regardless of the choices you make. 

Comments

[Lee]

Hemlock is adorable! It’s easy to see how the family fell in love with her quickly.

[Sarah]

You are a writer. I crave your words as much as you want to write them. Please don't ever stop. Love the last pic, I miss your face!!!

[DeNise]

You are a writer. I'm humbled by the way you evoke a visceral appreciation in me, for what you have to say. Thanks and dogs are perfect.

[Christy]

Thank you all for the affirmations, it helps to keep me putting pen to paper. And yes, Hemlock and dogs in general are the best:)