Monday, August 3, 2009
Something Lovely To Think About
I realize this is a little late... as it has been over two years now that I have been writing about life, love, insights, observations and longings. Okay I may have made a post here and there on those things. The truth is that WAS the point of the blog. I wanted to write short prose and clever inserts. Instead it became a blog of it's own, it's life force being a little boy we all know and love by this point. Yes this is Ben's blog. No two ways about it. I will not excuse it or apologize for it but I will explain it. Many times I will sit down in front of my lap top with an inspired insight reeling in my thoughts. It may have come from a news story, a social interaction, a recent conversation or an article I read. I sit for a moment and reflect on what I want to say, what is the tone I want to use? The feelings or thoughts I want to inspire? Then my mind wanders a little further back around again to the soft head I just kissed goodnight and the funny thing he said before I did. I panic at the thought of that fleeting moment. Precious and undocumented. I will forget. Quickly, I think, I will just jot down a quick blog entry sharing the moment. It will be here for all time, locked in cyberspace. Then, I think, I can get down to business...writing about bigger things. It seems though that I don't get to the big things very often. Not nearly as often as intended. It is the small things however, that make up my big things. My small boy who makes up my big purpose. After I write about Ben, nothing else seems as important. My inspiration on another subject passes.
I am so happy in hindsight that I have documented his life, all those fleeting moments of precious innocence and love that shaped him into the person he is but which I didn't necessarily file away in a long term memory vault. Not for lack of want, but perhaps for lack of sleep. Morbidly I can't help but think this is insurance of sorts. If I were to die suddenly, prematurely, my children and husband would know how deeply and desperately I loved them. For every second of their lives they would know this. They could read about these moments and know how I tried, every moment I tried. They would know how much I adored being my husbands wife and how motherhood brought me purpose. Because it is all here.
Morbid...I know. But it is just a thought, that justifies why that news story doesn't make me feel as much as it did a moment ago, or how that conversation I was about to write about lost significance because nothing else really matters as much, feels as good, makes me happier or seems as worthwhile as writting about Ben. I fear it will only become more so as we welcome another inspiration into our lives. So I offer this explanation now as I give up on trying for something else and accept the lovely thing that is.