In odd hours, in corners, in pockets I stretch myself into my work and know that this season of grasping and straining beyond my capacity will not last forever--my daughter growing too quickly, a house to keep, a mouth to feed, a job done in the early morning or the late night between cooking and placing bandaids and coloring and Littlest Pet Shops and the work of over 100 different voices handed to me with so much weight placed within the searching mind on the page. The stretch between a preschool vocabulary and a university vocabulary leads to a sort of word amnesia (there is a word for that, and I can't think of it).
What is it that I have to say? How can I say it? I simplify things as much as possible because my life is made up mostly of communication, and I am someone who values the functional over the decorative. And my dark secret is that I'm not sure that I understand anything. I, too, am just growing up. I am practicing with a permanent marker in my hand.
Even so. I am not naturally a brave person, but I will go to the door and yell at the neighbor dogs even when they yell back because I have a mouth to protect and a heart to live.