oceans and oceans


Today I am fighting off the capital T Tired because I stayed up much too late finishing The Ocean at the End of the Lane (Neil Gaiman's newest book).

Talk about jealousy: this is one of those books that makes me wish I had half as much story telling ability as the author. Even a quarter. I can only tell the stories I can tell, but wow, what stories Neil Gaiman gives us. I am so happy he is in the world and writing. It makes me want to write more fiction. (I have an idea I'm working on, actually, so this is good jealousy; I am letting it teach me.)

It was a hard book to read, because it was much too real. Too frightening. (No spoilers, but there's a chapter I wish wasn't even possible. But it is. The world is how the world is. Even without fantasy, even without magical realism, the world is a devastating place sometimes.) The ending made it worth while. Actually, the whole book made it worthwhile. It was just a heavy chapter to be in, while I was in it.

And then this morning, I woke up to a heavy starting day: Remy was refusing to take the medicine for his poison ivy, so mama got called into play. (It tastes awful. I hardly blame him, but it has to get taken. And those "have to" things weigh one down, making things that are heavy even heavier.) Sometimes parenting - sometimes life - is just heavy. We calmed down and started again. Lightened ourselves. That seems to be all we can do. Restart.

Restart.

This is all we can do. Live in each moment, as it is. Calm down. Lighten. Restart. Over and over again. World without end. Amen.