Passion. That fleeting rise in the heartbeat of anticipation. Passion. The flush of ones cheek. A wet hot heat. Passion. Desire burning steady, the promise of another, the love of another, the heat of another, the presence of another, the passion of another shared, one soul, enmeshed with mine.

Passion, lost in distance lost in time. Moments past, regrets that last. Passions never bridled, passions unexplored, passions undiscovered. Moments lost for fear.

An early morning

Sometimes I wonder, what am I doing here? Wrapped up in life’s daily chores of living I question my choice of path to tread upon. Sometimes I tread lightly, feeling an understanding and belief in the good of the world, but other times my feet are dead weight and the world appears to me unmasked in a state of disrepair. Then there are times when just one small event can give me hope, one smile, one line of a song or just one note, one laugh, just one word or just one touch. There are women in my life who often greet me with an embrace, I am sometimes uncomfortable, but I have begun to realize the importance of touch and affirmation, I have begun to pull down the walls I have so carefully put up – it feels good.

This morning I was up before 8 feeling nauseous, (a medication I’m taking), I came down the stairs to hear a light knock at the door, there stood a neighbor holding out a bag of zucchini and squash, asking if we would like squash from their garden. As I thanked him and he turned away I thought to myself, this is a moment to tread lightly, a moment to feel gratitude for those who extend themselves, their talents and their gifts freely, a moment to feel gratitude for the gifts of the earth.

Thoughts from last week...

So much has been happening in my life lately, in our life, as I recognize my life is connected to so many others . . . so much has transpired that I have neglected my blog. I often compose a blog in my mind, a running journal entry of sorts, only to later abandon transcription.

I am taking a four credit hour photography class on Mondays at Westminster. I am in the class for five hours every week for eight weeks. This has proved a much greater challenge than originally anticipated. First, the cost. I did not envision having to purchase Ilford RC Multigrade paper in bulk quantities, nor twenty some rolls of Kodak Plus X 125 black and white film. Secondly, the assignments for the class consume quite a bit of time, both in and out of the lab. Hours in the lab developing negatives, hours trying to capture the right shot for the assignment. I anxiously await the development of my next four rolls of film; negatives which I pray will demonstrate an ability to capture motion and depth of field. I spent the most beautiful Saturday morning last week in the gardens at Thanksgiving Point. Alone with my backpack and sunscreen I searched the gardens for shapes and textures which caught my eye and then my lens. It was a hot dry day and I was grateful for the four bottles of water I had placed in my backpack earlier in the morning. I will know before the weekend is over if my efforts were fruitful. I have a new respect for the art of photography and even more so for the artist behind the lens.

I moved into my new home, our new home. In fact I’m still technically moving in as there are a dozen or so boxes stacked in the backyard. I knew this move would be a challenge, I anticipated the exhaustion that accompanies any move, yet this move has almost licked me. Balancing school and relationships and Perrie and moving while feeling this constant panic about my senior thesis and the lack of time I have spent in its preparation . . . breath in breath out breath in breath out . . . to say I am overwhelmed would be an understatement. Thankfully I had an amazing amount of support from my younger brothers and their spouses, two incredible sister-in-laws that have been there when asked, when tired, helping me after working all day, and my two younger brothers who gave of their time freely, I feel blessed. My sister Amelia showed her maturity, to my surprise her presence often made the workload feel lighter. My father and Abby and CJ tackled projects I could not face. I have many thank you notes to write and much to be grateful for.

A week before moving in I painted two rooms. I painted Perrie’s room yellow, per her very specific request, and I painted the living room and entry a soft blue. (I could not live inside a living room the color of mud, this is a home, not a bomb shelter.) And we have neighbors! Living breathing thinking neighbors, the kind who stop by and say hello. I have even been invited to be part of a neighborhood book club. Imagine, a neighborhood of women who do not make me feel as if I have stepped into the movie set for Stepford Wives.