Thursday, November 29, 2012

and how


This is a baby picture of mine. I'm the bald chubby one with blue eyes. I look like I should be wearing suspenders and old man pants as opposed to a dress. I am sitting next to my sister. I look at it and wonder the usual things one does with evidence of onceago infancy. How was I ever that small? How did I grow into this present body, into a head with too much hair and brown eyes?

I've been working on NaNoWriMo all month. Every day I write a little bit more about my memories and life. I thought this would be a relatively easy task but here I am with 1.5 days left in the challenge and so much left to write. A life is so damn big. It isn't just the moments but the emotions to that moment, the moment as it is in place behind the present. It's been unfurling like a fist. For the past month I feel like I've been working on a road. Or the map to that road, as well as shaping the ditches alongside that road and the trees that stand over them.

It's so hard to explain.

I feel a lot better now than I did at the beginning of November. Writing on a regular basis is medicine. Some dents in the dash have been smoothed out, so to speak. I've done some healing this month. I can feel it, especially when I look back at old pictures/evidence like the one above. I'm not so scared of the image there and all it might represent. I still wonder the usual but it's no longer an issue of sorrow. I am not sorry for my life. The act of putting words on page has always been important(and necessary) to me. This month proved its power to me. What you love can heal you.

I look at that pic and think: oh babygirl. Just you wait until your fist finds that pen.

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