She can’t decide.
She wonders at everything, endlessly wondering, never arriving at anything solid.
She seeks stability until it bores her and then she recklessly runs after change.
She mourns her babies and longs to tenderly hold them once again, gazing in their eyes while softly cooing and rocking, easily protecting them from known and imagined evils.
She desperately tries to capture the present, soaking in each physical moment, observing, believing, recording, loving and grieving, until the moments go the inevitable way of all moments before them and slip just out of grasp, carried away, never to return.
She knows that there is no worth in the capturing and yet she continues the pursuit, at times even finding great comfort in the worthlessness of it all.
She has no formal education and is not technically qualified to do any of the things that she loves to do. Sometimes this is a source of insecurity and sometimes it is a source of freedom. Sometimes freedom and insecurity hold hands and jump together.
She is paralyzed by most questions and often hides from others just to avoid answering them; not because she doesn’t like the answers, but because she doesn’t know the answers and probably never will.
She has goals of sitting on top of hills after climbing them, canoeing on foggy lakes at dawn, leaning into the wind at a 45 degree angle, eating Indian food with a good friend, putting words to her thoughts, never driving on a freeway again, and wearing dresses all summer long.
She is keenly aware of the hope that she has while remaining keenly aware of the hopelessness that threatens to consume her.
She rests her weary soul in the love that will not let her go.
She rode the swings at a parking lot carnival last night. She paid five coupons from the coupon book. She reassured the frightened being next to her – the one that used to be her baby. She kicked her shoes off, threw her arms out, laid her head back and flew through the night sky.
She forgot she was in a parking lot.