Yesterday I was in a funk. A mood. Something inside me felt like it was cracking open and that actually scared me.
And I do not scare easily.
All around me were giants. Hulking masses with clubs.
All around me were possibilities. Ethereal and tangible and opaque and translucent.
All around me were things outside my control. And I love to maintain control. Relinquishing it? That’s just a fancy word for lose.
I wanted to get some work done, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t get above the fog long enough to focus. Because I couldn’t stop looking everything around me that I needed or wanted to hold together.
I kept seeing myself at Barnes and Noble. A three-story beauty with windows that look out over the whimsically lovely courtyard at the Americana Mall in Glendale.
I kept seeing it, and so finally I took myself there. I rode escalators to the top floor where all the romance and thrillers, the YAs and middle grades live. I wandered the floor and looked at the books, considered buying some but mostly just touched them.
Absorbed the power of imagination inside them.
I stepped outside to the patio lined with tables and chairs, found a spot, and got set up.
I didn’t start working right away.
I watched the fountain dance to the beat of the music. Watched tree leaves rustle in the breeze. I watched the ground below me, felt like a bird perched on a ledge, surveying and unencumbered by the need to walk.
Then I had ideas and I did crack open.
I kept on cracking open for the rest of the day, into the night, where I cried while watching my son sleep curled around a dragon-dog stuffed toy, snoring lightly. Because I remembered when my biggest fear in the world was that I wouldn’t ever get pregnant. That I’d never have him at all. That even if I did, I’d somehow screw it up.
But there he was, 10 years old now, and so much lovelier than I ever imagined, so worth all the faith and the struggle, fighting my giants of fear, relinquishing my control to just trust.
If I did it for him, for the dream of him and the reality of him, couldn’t I do it again for all the other dreams – the uncountable number I hold in my heart?