. . .which is weird because I usually fall asleep easily. Sometimes my mind just won’t be still. I was thinking of life and mortality. Kiku had come to bed and she rested her head on my shoulder for a bit, purring all the while. She will die years before I do, but it doesn’t bother her. She just is. And Rowan is the same–full of life and light, she doesn’t know yet about all the horrible things that could happen. She just is, whatever that happens to be at the moment–sometimes she is coloring, sometimes she is jumping around singing songs, sometimes she is making stories. I love being part of her world, and the intense happiness I get from seeing her live is something she will completely forget, at least these years.
Sometimes I think of all the humans before us who lived out their lives in anonymity the same way I will live out mine. Because of Leif’s ancestry, my idle daydreams are often of Viking-type people and how they would have lived. I imagine people sitting by the fire, wondering about life and love and the meaning of it all in such a huge world, where the meaning usually resides in the small amount of people you actually know. And the little children of those days probably sang and danced and took off their clothes just to show they could. It makes me so sad to think of those little children growing up and living out their lives and dying. Life is change, and life repeats, and you watch your children grow up to have children of their own. And yet it is beautiful to watch the person unfold. Rowan is so different from the 1-year old she used to be, but I have so much fun with each new day.
Sometimes I am so happy, so fiercely happy that my life is what it is, that is chills me to think this will all pass away. And yet, if the old joys do not pass away, where is room for the new ones? If I do not let go of the 2-year old Rowan, how will I enjoy the 3-year old? And me? I think of my 20s, such searching for friends and a place to make my own in this town, and I do not feel that anymore. I grew up.