still hoping after all these fears

November 9, 2016

everybody in this country was feeling some kind of way this morning. winners. losers. hims. hers. dark, light, rich, poor, red, blue, educated or not. we all had a stake in what happened last night, just as we all have a stake in what lies ahead. i’m not afraid to admit i was saddened by last night’s results. not so much because of who won or lost, but because of the principles that appear to be the prevailing voice of this country. what’s done is done, and yes, moving forward means coming to terms with the outcome presented to us. but i refuse to accept that a great America is one built on a foundation of fear, hate, exclusion and aggression. whatever our politics, whatever our individual needs, we cannot hope for betterment as people, and as a nation, if we can’t stay connected to our own shared humanity. so as we look ahead, let us do so with understanding in mind and compassion at heart. let the path forward be a bridge that unites us, not an endless valley filled with resentment, anger, and disappointment. yes, let’s be great, America, but let us also be full of grace. let us find the dignity in respectfulness, and the courage behind love. that’s a future i’m proud to stand behind; that’s a future that gives me hope for my son, for us all.

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fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 8

July 26, 2016

 

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agnes martin: understated, inspired

July 25, 2016

 

a few dreamy faves from the Agnes Martin exhibit now on at LACMA:

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{images via: 01, 02, 03, 04)

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 7

May 20, 2016

 

that moment

(as a mother)

when you realize what you have to do

shed

let go of

doesn’t make it

any easier

to watch you grow up.

 

– a.

may 19, 2016

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 6

February 5, 2016

 

plastic shovel in my suitcase

miniature shoes by the front door

car seat framed in my rearview mirror

letter magnets in my underwear drawer

 

little handprints on the mirrors

yesterday’s lunch still on my shirt

puzzle pieces in my work bag

toy cars constantly underfoot

 

tiny toothbrush in the bathroom

sunday’s paper now torn apart

discarded pickle in dada’s shoe

refrains from books i know by heart

 

colored chalk dust in the driveway

collection of  buckets on the stoop

floating letters in the bathtub

conversations we’ve got on loop

 

bright thread woven throughout my day,

bread crumbs leading me back to what’s true,

the signs and symbols of my child,

i’ve come to cherish

these pieces of you

 

  • a.

february 3, 2016

 

miniature shoes

 

friday vibes

January 29, 2016

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{via}

obsessed

September 1, 2015

with this song. this video. this girl.

bedtime reading

August 25, 2015

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fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 5

July 6, 2015

yesterday i looked up
i looked up and saw
that you were no longer my baby
i looked up and saw
that you had become my son

a year has passed,
more,
since you came to be
since we began the slow journey
toward knowing one another
life has come back to reclaim me
a jealous sibling
constantly competing for my time
it builds a wall between me
and the immediateness of our early days
with brick after brick of have-to’s
and i find myself asking:
what were you like back then?
were you really ever so small?

all i have left is a string of vignettes
soft-spun memories of our beginnings
of your tiniest self
golden
and delicate
and fragile to the touch:

the sparrow’s ribs beneath the surface of your torso;
the kiss-kiss purse of your tiny mouth;
the downy pillow of your cheeks;
the push and pull of your parenthetical little feet;
the gentle puff of your breath against my neck;
the soft lisp of your first whispers;
your toothless grin;
your wonder-filled eyes;
the feel of your dimpled fist against my chest;
the weight of your head in the hollow of my arm;
the unruly wisps of your gossamer hair,
standing up like a feather in your cap.

precious (few) details,
let me wear them around the neck of my soul
gather them in the palm of my heart
tattoo them to my mind’s eye
so that I may never forget
the magic of the days
when I was steeped in you.

– a.
july 6, 2015

Wyatt

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 4

April 23, 2015

i wasn’t prepared for how
raw I would feel
when you came into the world
how much like an open wound
my heart would become
bare nerve exposed to every passing wind

i couldn’t have known
how i would be cleaved open
by your tiny hands and infinite eyes
that there would remain this chasm in me
a threshold
for unmatched joy
and unfathomable love
that could never again be filled
by anyone
or anything
but you

sometimes at night (now)
laying in the dark
i am devastated by sadness
knowing that just below the surface
of every moment we share
lies one inescapable truth:
we have only one lifetime together
days
hours
minutes
absurd
that a connection so eternal
could be bound by chains so finite
could be bound by anything at all
it’s a cosmic riddle i cannot comprehend
the work of a cruel and unfeeling logic
i do not wish to understand

but though my heart may cling to ignorance,
i know this much is true:
death will have to drag me
kicking and screaming
from this life with you

-a.
april 23, 2015