On Withholding

Yesterday was the annual grandma fest. We spent the day at grandma Brenda's swimming, swinging, water ballooning, cupcaking, and running through corn fields. 9 cousins, 3 moms, 1 cool aunt, 1 grandma, a dog and a cat by the name of Kitty Sue who caught a bird, which fascinated the kids and which they saved. It was a loud day with all those kids living their hearts out, never holding back.

 My view looking down.

 Fisher didn't want to break this one.

 Clearing a space in the corn for bigfoot with cousin Bo.

 Ice cream and eyelashes.

 Phoenix was attached to cousin Paige's hip all day.

With Aunt Shelby.

Last night after the kids crashed I sat on the back patio and watched the sky turn black inch by inky inch. It was my only intention. And now I wake and the world is just as I left it. And I will sit here and watch the light gather, withholding nothing from me. There is much that I can handle, but withholding is one of the hardest things to bare. It's a cruel thing when people withhold how they feel about others and a burden to your mind when you hold back the words of your own heart. Of course words of judgment should be withheld as they should hopefully not even be imagined. But how we feel should be known. What we want, whether it's possible or not, should be shared. Though kids are often scared of the dark, they never keep others in that place. I want to live with that kind of fullness and that noise. Though it may seem loud, it quiets our forever questioning minds.