Author: angiem, 02 18th, 2011

The silvery light of the full moon gets trapped inside my bedroom and wakes me up. It’s 3:30 am. The house is silent and asleep. The air outside so still, almost as if the world is holding its breath. I feel restless. I want to go and make myself some coffee, curl up in the armchair in the kitchen, read my book. But I don’t think I can still my mind enough. Down the hallway, through the open door of her bedroom, I hear my daughter grinding her teeth. I wonder what she’s dreaming of, this child of mine made of light and laughter. I want to go and curl my body around her small one, hold her tight, my nose buried in the softness of her hair. Instead, I say a prayer for her. A prayer for my son. My sweet, sweet boy. More than anything, still wanting the approval of his parents.

I feel a sadness deep inside. Threatening. I don’t know what or why. I remember my mother back when I was a teenager. How I would wake up in the night and hear her praying. I understand her now. Her fervent wishes for her children. Her need to know that we would be all right.

I think of how as parents we have all these expectations of our children. And they of us. Nothing profound in that. But when I think about it, I wonder if our expectations are ruining the greatness within them. Perhaps making them feel imperfect, insufficient. Because our aspirations for them aren’t all justified, are they. Most are purely selfish. What we had wanted for ourselves. And what does that teach them?

Twice, this past week, I felt a tightness in my chest, as though I was about to burst. Light headed, my breaths rushing out, the sound of my heartbeat deafening in my ears. It’s probably nothing. It isn’t the first time I’ve scared myself silly, thinking I’m about to die. It isn’t the first time I’ve idealized my worries.

I took the children out to pizza for lunch, the other day. It had snowed with thick snowflakes early in the morning. Chunks of clouds falling from the sky. By noon the day had cleared, the sun stinging my eyes with its brightness. We dressed warmly and walked. We took the train to Powell’s and lost ourselves within its walls. On our way back, I saw a girl on a pink bike, wearing a pink satin skirt. She was at a stoplight, waiting her turn in the car line. Her face was upturned to the sun. There was a stillness about her. A joy.

All these disjointed thoughts swirling through my head. They don’t make much sense, I know. And come the light of day, I may cringe at how foolish they seem, and delete them all.


29 Responses to “thoughts”

  1. Mary Moon Says:

    I am glad you did not delete them. They are beautiful and true and mirror every mother’s thoughts.

  2. Susan Says:

    Oof. Anxiety, yes. I won’t say much except that the moon was my companion last night, as well. I just deleted 4 sentences. Eek. xoxo/Susan

  3. Sarah Says:

    No, No not silly! You actually echoed many of my thoughts lately. I have a 16 and a 14 year old. Everything I have known and loved feels like it is coming to an end in a few years. I now see I will have an entire new stage ahead of me and I am resisting it and yearning for it at the same time. I cannot believe my babies will not stay with me forever. I know people older and wiser often say this too us but it is coming at me full force this year. My daughter’s birthday (17) is in 2 weeks. I feel nothing but sadness for myself. It feels like one huge countdown to the end. She is my best friend and I don’t know how I will move forward without her. I enjoyed your writing very much. Your children might be younger but your feelings resonated with me! Thank you.

  4. Jena Says:

    Your thoughts are beautiful Angie. They articulate what many of us can’t find the words for. Thank you!

  5. Ava Says:

    No!! Don’t delete them! They are raw and powerful.

  6. Susan Tiner Says:

    I can feel the love pouring out of you for your children. That’s the most important thing. Everything else is window dressing. What we do, what we don’t do.

    I love the image of the girl on the pink bike wearing a pink dress.

    And I miss Powell’s very much.

  7. Stephanie Says:

    No - don’t delete them. Your words are true and straight and strong. You have the most evocative way of writing. And yes, oh, yes, our children. Our hopes, fears and aspirations. Love them, teach them, pray for them. What more can we do? (I love love love when you post. Really lovely writing, as always.)

  8. angiem Says:

    Thank you, dearest friends. It warms my heart that you’re lending me a little of your time.

  9. Design Elements Says:

    glad you didn’t delete them too… happy weekend!

  10. Diane Says:

    So many of us have those same worries as mothers. I long for that joy you saw and wish I could wear it every day. Hugs sweet friend and please stay healthy and strong. We all love you. :O)

  11. La Belette Rouge Says:

    Sense is overrated. That said, your thoughts all have a *sense* to them and are a joy to the senses to read. Feeling the cold and the sadness, tasting the pizza, seeing the pink and experiencing the lostness. It all makes sense to me.xoxo

  12. Relyn Says:

    I’m glad you didn’t delete them. So glad.

  13. Cathi Says:

    Beautiful words, Angie! I am often up in the early hours thinking all the thoughts you wrote about and praying for my children - wanting the best life for them. You have such a wonderful way with words, thank you for sharing with us! xxoo :)

  14. Elizabeth Says:

    Oh, don’t delete them! You’ve spoken and written many mothers’ thoughts! And you’ve done it so beautifully and gracefully.

  15. Bobi Says:

    I loved reading your thoughts…. :)
    I understand so well what you are feeling here and I’m glad you didn’t delete this.

  16. Holly L Says:

    You should never delete your thoughts, for each in its own way holds so much wisdom. I always wonder if my expectations of my children are burdening them more than helping them. I am trying to so hard to let them be who they are meant to be but still wanting to protect and guide them.

  17. Susu Paris Chic Says:

    How precious of you to share your soul… A tiny piece. I know so much about the crush in the chest. It is emotional, yet manifests in a very physical way. The French call it spasmophilia. I have had it for almost two years now. You need to let your thoughts out. Try to relax. I know I am trying to learn this…

  18. sw Says:

    Thanks for sharing this very poignant moment. Fear is the enemy here. Let it go, and know that you and they will be fine, absolutely fine, in their own divine way. Life gives us many fine moments to savor.
    Writing is a cathartic event, and you capture those moments with such grace. Thank you for sharing, and allowing us all a moment of unity.
    Congratulations, you are human. ;-)

  19. Victoria @ Hibiscus Bloem Says:

    Always good to get your thoughts down on paper (well, screen these days!). It clears the busy head a little. I woke at 4.30am this morning, a head full of thoughts about my family which wouldn’t quiet. I so wanted to creep downstairs to make tea and toast and snuggle under a blanket, but my Ruby has been such a restless sleeper this week, I dared not creep past her room step for fear of waking her. She slept soundly in a deep baby sleep, whilst I worried about her as only a mother does. Sending hugs. x

  20. Ange Says:

    Never delete those thoughts. They are life itself Angie. HOw many times have I had those same ones at different times.
    I too miss chatting with you. It’s definitely time for a catch up. It seems we are in parallel worlds afterall. The fire has worn down here and the wind is whistling outside. I shall take myself to bed and ponder your thoughts

  21. Mwa (Lost in Translation) Says:

    I will just add that I too am glad you didn’t delete them. Beautiful and true words.

  22. Francesca Says:

    Oh, what beautiful post! The complexity and clarity of thoughts, often simple thoughts, at certain times of day can be almost overpowering. But they are special moments.

  23. Bunny Says:

    Oh Sweet Angie never delete such beautiful poetic words!! Your words so resonate with us….
    thank you for your kind words on my blog…

  24. audrey Says:

    Angie, your thoughts are a blessing to your readers… so full of love and wishes and questions and wonder and noticing all the beauty in the everyday, along with our uncertainties… i just love your writing. …relax… you are very cool for school… as the kids say. love and a good heart always win in the end.

    love to you dear Friend. and thanks so so much for your kind words on my new blog. your presence is a blessing.

  25. snippets of thyme Says:

    Angie, I have given you the “Versatile Blogger Award” on my blog today. I was given this award last week. I am supposed to pass it on to 7 bloggers that I admire. I chose you.

    The guidelines are on today’s blog. Basically, you say 7 things about yourself. Thank the person (by linking back) who gave you the award. And, then choose 7 bloggers you admire.

    Congratulations and have fun!

  26. Cindy L Says:

    These are beautiful, creative thoughts … reminding me of an independent film. Beautiful bits of life, swirling around…

  27. Jeanne Says:

    Angie, don’t you dare delete a single thought! You have put words to what many of us feel. I think of the countless times I have woken in the night with the same feeling….and then another night.
    Parents expectations…certainly higher than the ones my parent’s placed on me yet I have to remember to keep them balanced. Each child is different and runs under their own steam. You never forget the look in your child’s eyes when you have gone a bit to far in your expectations. That look serves as a reminder for the next time. I tell them to do their best and if they felt they did then that is the best barometer. It is a clever ploy of mine as when I say it, nine times out of ten they return to what they were doing to get it right…then they smile :)

    Loving where your words take me Angie..on this morning, I need it!

    Jeanne xxx

  28. Lori Says:

    I worry a lot too. Especially about my child. I am frightened. I don’t understand why. It must be something of mothers, something that keeps us on our feet, alert to the needs of our children. So painful so many times.

  29. Christina Lindsay Says:

    Dear Angie, I don’t worry at all. I probably would if I had children. My boyfriend worries if he has nothing to worry about!

    I’m glad you didn’t delete your thoughts. You write beautifully xx

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