It’s a good life. It’s not one many people choose but it’s so good. It’s chaos and noise as much as it’s quiet moments that make everything else disappear.
They are good people. I’d want to know them if they weren’t mine. They are all good people. We train the magic out of them. We make them shame filled and corrupt and we break them to make them fit in the world. I don’t want to do that. I want them to keep their innocence, embrace their havoc, express their romance someday as easily as their love for ladybugs now.
The world tells us it’s too much. I’m somehow less because of how much I have. That religion or addiction are the only way I could do what I do. If that’s true, they are my religion. Their happiness is my addiction. I’m less broken with them. My scars fade through their eyes. Their existence made me stronger and weaker. I cry when I feel now. I always feel now.
I’m lucky to have them. How was I chosen? How did I make two miraculous beings? How did the universe or the courts or nothing more than a phone call present three more gifts of humanity to me?
They are not burdens. They are not baggage. They are the best of me. They are better than I will ever be.
It’s not for everyone. It shouldn’t be for a lot of the people who are currently doing it. You have to be selfless, you have to serve, you have to sacrifice, and surrender. So much surrendering. And when you do that you are given everything.
Tolstoy said, “Happiness is only in loving.”
Loving is actually a choice. It’s easy to fall in and out of love. It’s a challenge to maintain love. To grow love. To truly accept love. To act on love. To love in action. You cannot be complacent in love. It breathes and feeds and rests and if it is not tended upon it dies. Can you see it when you really have it, can you believe and trust it’s real?
A man, a woman, a child, a pet. What a ridiculous joy we are given, this ability to love. To accept all the mess, all the defenses, all the darkness that tries to sabotage all the light of love.
I have five lights. I have five living breathing happinesses. I have five declarations of my love that express themselves every moment of my life. I choose every day to love them more than myself.
I still have love to give. I’m not depleted. Love renews me. Terrifies me and makes me brave. Makes me write things I can’t erase, say things I can take back, feel things I am blessed and cursed to feel so soon. Too soon. Too late. Too much. Not enough.
I can do it all alone.
I don’t want to.
Who wants to do it alone? Who has had someone and is still doing it alone?
Let’s be all in for each other.
I’m never alone and always alone.
Am I enough? Not too much?
I need someone to love me the way I love them.
I need to be someone’s light.
Not someone. My one.
I need you to embrace away my defenses.
I need you to love me for my chaos and my calm.
I need to give and not just receive but have my givings treasured.
Be scared but be brave more. If it ends, what a ride. If it lasts, what a life.
I only know how to love. I know the presence of happiness. My obsession with the future comes from the promise of it. It lays before me as clearly in my mind the day behind me.
It is and will be such a good life. A good life. Underrated, underachieved, undervalued. A good life. How beautiful and simple and complicated and epic. It’s a good life. Live it with me.
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