I am in the middle of these busy, busy two weeks and also found out just yesterday that Lucy is the Star of the Week in first grade and there are all sorts of things I should have been doing for that, including now bringing in treats for everyone tomorrow. I woke up yesterday being absolutely positive that it was Friday and thinking most of this was past me, but it was only old Wednesday with still miles to go before I sleep.
But while I'm racing around doing everything, I'm also driving alone good portions of the time on I-90, which despite the maniacs who tailgate you even though you're driving 84 miles per hour, is actually lovely on long stretches of it--fields and farms and horses and big trees, shedding their leaves, which seem to have made their way right out of a Robert Frost poem.
And speaking of poetry, I came across this beautiful one by Mary Oliver (love her), which is so lovely and true that I read it several times and got at least one tear in my eye. If you'll forgive this hippie literary-dork phrase, it speaks to my soul right now...enjoy.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.