From the past

Listening to music from the past conjures up the weirdest sensations, doesn't it? Makes my heart race. I think because it transports me so thoroughly that it's startling. Sometimes I can't listen to it. Maybe that's weird? But this morning I've been enjoying it.

 

like this.

It also makes me happy that the subtitles in this video are, for some reason, in Spanish.






How is it that so much time has passed, but it feels exactly the same?

Temporarily alone

So...I didn't want to complain to the internet about being home alone all summer because that seemed unwise and creepy, but now I can safely say that I have survived two months of Logan interning in Dallas. (Leaving me working in Waco with baby in tow).

Buddies

Somehow it went by in a blur of bottle washing, going to bed early, and pizza. So much pizza.

It dawned on me towards the end that I was feeling this nostalgic sort of independence that I haven't felt since college. Ellis was there, of course, but apart from him and Logan via phone, no one had claims on my time or attention. Even our dog was out of town.

It was interesting and strange to (almost) revert back to that independence. Even if my actions didn't differ that much, it felt different. I felt different.

This is no humble-brag; it's a confession. It's often easier to be alone.
I guess what it comes down to is that having people in your life requires something from you. Friends, family, children, anyone. Even if it's worth it, even if it is totally voluntary, even if it is barely perceptible, it takes something to not live solely for yourself.

That being said, it is wonderful not being alone. I'm so glad that Logan is back, and I hope we never have to repeat this summer's set-up again. Houses should be full of noise and movement and love. We need people to validate our existence.

I like to imagine that Logan and I will have a big, rollicking family someday. The truth is that if that's going to happen, I'm going to have to be okay with being pouring a lot of myself into people. Not in a sad, self-denying-martry-type way, but in an abundant, teeming-with-life-that-can't-be-conatined way. Something to grow into.



On Sleep

As I was going through pictures the other day, I noticed that a surprisingly large number of them were of people sleeping. Why am I creepily taking pictures during these rare and quiet moments instead of sleeping myself? I'm not entirely sure. 

Funny that something as intrinsically solitary as sleep is something most creatures don't like to do alone.

I still remember so clearly the way that listening to my parents' measured breathing in the night could banish all fear of dreams when I was a child. Just being physically near them was enough.

It brings to mind the main character in George MacDonald's Lilith, when he hears the voice of his love from across the divide of sleep, of death.

"Are you coming, king?" it said. "I cannot rest until you are with me, gliding down the river to the great sea, and the beautiful dream-land. The sleepiness is full of lovely things: come and see them."

Sleep is still a precious commodity around here, but sometimes it's worth it to stay awake just a little longer than everyone else to witness that moment of unconscious communion.