I write words and I worry that I am being redundant. Saying the same things over and over in different ways. I don't know where my original thoughts are. I only know what my thoughts are right now.
But I pound out those words anyway. and I click send. Showing up imperfectly or not at all ... that's my motto.
Layers and layers wrapped around me this cold morning. We are off to watch the grandsons run to raise money for their school. I love them and cheer them on but why are these schools so underfunded? And their school is one of the best resourced in the district.
More resources for a very white populated school. There are few faces of color in the students or in the faculty.
They play the National anthem. I am tempted to take a knee but I have questions about the appropriateness of this white woman making such a statement. Instead, I do what I have done for a decade now: my quiet protest of placing my hands behind my back and bowing my head while this song plays. I will not place my hand over my heart in allegiance to this country and I will not hold my head high.
My heart aches as they play college fight songs and some of the teachers tomahawk chop during the Florida State chant. Sigh. Must we perpetuate these ideas.
The rest of fun run was accompanied by fun and funky music. The adults stand so still. When did we lose our natural propensity to move when we hear music? I want to be child, dancing any chance I get. Life is too short not to dance.
Errands crammed in between the two fun runs. I make a dash for the doors of Costco to avoid running into an old friend. I cannot hold up to any words about Noah today.
Ask me how I am doing and I escape with simple words, "I'm OK" or I say too too too many words. Over sharing seems to be the default. Both leave me feeling awkward.