and he, made three.

such a thoughtful heart for a 6 year old. And I guess I would be held accountable for it, my whole being has been devoted to her since the day I felt her move from within me. From the first moment I knew it was real, she was real. And so, she is a thoughtful, caring and genuine human being. She worries, so I can be held accountable for that as well I'd assume. However, she has a head on those shoulders that will move mountains and for that I'm happy - the strength and devotion in that little mind could conquer a fair bit, I'd think. How am I to know, really? I just watch, and admire. And so she paves the way for the 3 year old, who is always eager and willing to follow in the steps... but won't miss the chance to stray and do it her own way. A fighter in her heart of hearts. So easily distressed, tears pouring while she nervously fights them back - another trait I'll be held accountable for. the nervous tears. and then there is the little one who has found the one thing that ensures I am by his side night and day, and who in their right mind can place blame? Last in pecking order, nurse it for all it's worth. always smiling, though - a generally mellow babe. I'd say I'm lucky, but I'm afraid luck hasn't much to do with it. Lots of lovin and laughin, though.

sharp edge

like walking on glass, holding breath, intense concentration. it's a sad old tale of a grander song, more laughter and less worry. all the great expectation diminishes with the sharp edge of realities. I wonder sometimes if it's ever enough, and I suppose I won't know for many years to come. Who can say? There is no scale to measure life's achievement, or lack thereof. And so I'm left to my own devices - left to the madness of my mind. and what's to be made of such a thing? I suppose there isn't much, or I'd be farther ahead than behind from when I started. Perhaps I am ahead, but mostly it feels like a constant lag. Vocal cords slit, leaving a constant gasping - nothing much to say. Not lack of something to say, more so, lacking the ability. And what's the point if every moment isn't cherished? What is a life of constant bustle, no time to stop and enjoy? It's a damn shame, a waste. And so a resolve would be to walk slower, think simpler, enjoy more and laugh often - but some days (I'm content to say it's not most) it just seems like more energy than I can spare.