We’re easing into 2012 and looking back at our favorite Bigger Picture Moments of 2011. You can join in on TODAY by coming back HERE and linking up your favorite moment from the last year.
This is Alita’s
It was quiet, but my thoughts were loud. Both boys were in school that day, I was alone. I sat by the wide open living room window, eavesdropping on the hum of the morning. Suburbia is known for the constant parade of middle aged mothers with strollers; the annoying and constant opening and closing of garage doors; men who have the ceaseless need to mow their perfect lawns. I have lived in suburbia my entire life except for when I left for college and of course I choose a small town college to study.
Suburbia is a repetitive lifestyle. The people who live here are men and women who met, fell in love, had a child (or more), bought their first home, and live within the tedium of life. Not necessarily in that order of course. It is mostly uneventful. There is a blind need for conformity, to be accepted. And in a economy that walks on eggshells we are all desperately seeking security and safety.
These thoughts jumble around as wet laundry does in the dryer, it makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes the only time I feel real honesty, something true, is when I’m by myself. I have never forgotten the truth, and I speak only what I think is the truth, but have I forgotten how to be really truthful. Has living in a world of expectations, limitations, political correctness, and disenchantment shaped my adult life?
My fingers nimbly moved to the rhythm of yarn, occasionally my fingers would slip and the ball would unravel. My head was full and thick with these thoughts. Yarn can be used as a metaphor, if you are apt to use metaphors, for the unraveling and raveling individual life span. In this I ponder with mixed emotions. I’m a artist, writer, a mother with very specific duties and a true mothering heart. I hold no day job, but I work every bit as hard as every one else, with no pay. This could be followed up with I get paid in kisses and hugs, but that is trite. I get paid in the knowledge that I’m raising boys to become men, the kind of men that can stand up on two feel and serve the community as well as themselves with diginity.
My husband’s support, is needed. I don’t know how single mothers accomplish what they do, and in a way I’m envious. I admire their strength. I admire their determination. I admire how they stand up and conquer the fear of raising children by themselves. And yet, I love my husband, truly and deeply. I don’t ever want a life without him in it. He does in fact, complete me.
When I’m alone the truth comes to me. It comes to me when I’m doubtful that this life is the one I want to lead. There are no looming shadows in my life, no gaunt silhouettes against the backdrop of the every day. I knew what I was getting into, married life. Married with children… it isn’t for everybody.
My life is invincibly cheerful, full of laughter and warmth. Along our cul de sac there are rows of perfect brick houses with lush green lawns and perfect landscaping. Each house looks a little like the last one with one or two exterior features that make them stand out on the market, but still look like a toyland of conformity.
Living a life in deception is not for me. I understand my faults, I wear no blinders. Mediocrity is not an intentional thing, but within wanting to live an intentional life the mediocrity is comfortable and easy to move into. I know that if I want change, crave change, then I’m the one to call the shots. Life is not passing me by. I’m living it. This time that I have to myself, this quiet time has me a little uncomfortable. There are dreams yet to attain. Goals yet to be defined.
Silence moves me. It shapes me. Nothing should ever be said that does not improve on quietness, and true quietness is found when the mind and the world harmonize.
This is my bigger picture moment.