11/08 2eme semaine/ 2nd week

Elle est toujours triste la Forence quand je pars au boulot, ce qui est malheureusement le cas cette semaine.

Toutefois, je viens de passer 9 jours a la maison, et plusieurs fois par jour, elle nous a dit etre heureuse. "Happy" dit-elle de sa petite voix de bebe, et son vocabulaire d'une vingtaine de mots.
Lorsque les deux parents sont a la maison, ca va. Sinon, elle se resigne, mais on voit bien a son visage qu'elle devient triste quand papa fait sa valise.

Chaque matin, elle deploit son armada de "people" dit-elle, tous ce qu'il y'a derriere elle sur la photo. Elle s'occupe ainsi pendant que nous prenons le petit dejeuner, et souvent on l'entends s'exclamer. Qu'est-ce qu'un bebe peut bien penser lorsqu'il installe un ours en peluche sur une table ou une chaise?

A bientot Florence. Moi aussi tu manques.

I am desirous that my daughter never moves out or away. She's a great kid and, oh, what a loss my life would suffer should I not have her company.

Oh, yes, yes, be still you little opinionated people out there saying "but she must have her own life." Gee, thanks. Not born yesterday, or today, or tomorrow so saddle yourselves.

It's just that how great is it to be so in love, not only with my husband but the person he helped, helps, to create.

Needless to say, everything else in life seems rather blah blah after that.

Except, of course, for maybe that new, upcoming Star Trek movie. Now that's just plain cool.

What else to write of? Still attempting to keep scorpions at bay, caulking the ever lovin' crap out of the house. Still burning the 24 hour fuel raising a family. And playing a game of cat and mouse with hauntings from my mother, which I am sure are fueled in part by the coming holidays.

Such an odd thing, life, death. Seems such a thin line between life and memories of life that don't we sometimes confuse the two? As do elderly people, constantly recalling the "good ol' days" or talking to people who are no longer there, their minds wandering into shadows.

But, regardless, must move into the future, though sometimes the pull to carry forward the past is so intense. But move forward we must. Without growth we cease to be. You cannot freeze a plant in a point in time, nor a flower or clouds misting over the countryside. To do so would not be life, but a painting. And while we can enjoy a painting, we can only become enraptured in life.

You can either chose to be a taxiformed figure of yourself frozen above the fireplace or dare to think that maybe the future holds an even better moment than this.

And it must. For wasn't it that same thought that led to all human growth and development - the belief that there must be more?

And isn't it the most amazing of human displays to have the hope to believe it so?

Hope.

After all, that is what led to my meeting my husband and it is what created that gorgeous creature you see above these words.

So there must be something to be said of it - hope, the belief in more.

If not, than Shakespeare wrote of alot of nothing, did he not?

Ciao