My emotional climate is subject to changes in temperature, humidity, atmospheric pressure. I cycle through seasons of winter, spring, summer and autumn. Frozen stillness and emptiness generates a delicate blossom; new and fragile. Newness becomes familiar, familiar becomes forgotten, forgotten becomes frigid and lost.

I am coexisting in different hemispheres.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

I am overwhelmed, exhausted and weary yet blessings were never more abundant.

I miss having personal space. I am a jungle gym for jumping, climbing, dodging, kicking, etc. I live my life by a clock of feeding times, sleeping times, and everything in between. I answer the same questions and give the same directions infinite times. I wait for relief only to discover I am on the clock 24/7. When I rest my brain is occupied with how I can be and do better. Ignoring and delegating leave me feeling overwhelmed and inadequate.

But, ahh, the very best of the very best of times! To sing songs to a two year old as she winds down for sleep. Excitedly turning over and over in her bed only to stop and give a quick but tender peck before asking for another tune. Answering the call over and over of a little girl who longs to be with me and share all the exciting discoveries she makes. Watching the joy surge through her body when she is permitted to go wake up her little brother. Seeing how he convulses with happiness to see his big sister, his Papi, his Mama. What completely innocent and beautiful elation!

These beautiful children who have changed my identity and daily stretch my capabilities remind me that these are the best of times.