fall

thought i would share this journal entry tonight

I feel like every day I am falling. Continually falling. Sometimes I can't even put one foot in front of the other because I'll just trip and find myself flat on my face once again. I cry, I pout, I shout, I exasperate. And I have a mirror that looks mysteriously like my two and a half year old... and that mirror reflects back at me with disconcerting clarity.
I imagine that it would be easy to see all the bruises covering my elbows and knees and the callous on my hands from clawing my way back to a wobbly but standing position over and over each day. When does this poor mama rest? "Between heartbeats" says my Dad. But my baby looks up at me with her deep blue eyes and doesn't let go for a second. I often think of what she sees; I know it's not the imperfection that I so readily identify with. She sees every need and every comfort her little soul could ever ask for.
I must not be falling in her eyes; I must be floating.