sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
Fourty Fourth Entry-Thanksgiv...
I've never had a proper thanksgiving before. I thought it would be the perfect time to enter myself back into the world of Mindsay. I don't have to cook, I don't have to wash the children, I don't have to dress them or give them treats or read them anything about religion or history. (For all my knowledge, I only know the biased accounts of thanksgiving day).
All I have to do is pet them and give them candy and watch as my husband gives them their baths, and as his parents and their friends decorate and cook and transform my house into a yellow and orange festival. I found leaves on my kitchen island this morning, and pie crusts in my freezer. I have two strangers in my house, Reggie and Louise's (Harry's parents, if you've forgotten) best friends. When I had gotten the particulars of the thanksgiving holiday from Edward, I decided I'd ask Harry's parents and their friends and Edward and Rev and Emmy to see if they wanted to eat dinner with us. I imagined myself throwing a wonderful party, with streamers and drinks, and hot chocolate for the children and games and costumes, maybe an old-fashioned play like James found amusing.
But on the day Harry went to pick up Reggie, Louise, Sally, and Jim (Sally and Jim being their friends, you see.) I had fallen asleep with the children, putting them down for their nap. A book was underneath my head, a pen was in my hand, and Oliver sleeping in the crook of my calf and knee.I only woke when Harry picked me up and carried me to the living room to meet Reggie and Ouisie. Everyone laughed, I was embarrassed, Harry coerced them into taking over the supper.
My party wasn't mine anymore, but I've been able to read and take naps and fawn over little Gin who has become so mysterious to me lately. She's absolutely lovely, with her hair growing and her blue eyes, and her laughing. Harry can't get enough of her, so now it is my turn. My poor children have been feeling a bit neglected, I think. Harry and I have been struggling with money, struggling with everything lately. The most stable thing about us is our relationship. We talk more, we see more of each other; Harry and I are moving forward with our lives. I have never loved someone so much. I don't think anyone has.
I want to discuss Edward, I want to be more poetic, I want to visit about Rev and Trinity (who has become such a spitfire!), but I am so exhausted. So exhausted. Every day I find myself looking older, but happier, but older still. The children, my job (I'll have to talk about that too), school and my own personal studying make me feel like I'm living three lives.
Edward likes to say I'm trying to get my past, present, and future completed all at once.
I'll try and update more often, I promise. I need something that's mine, something that isn't anyone else's. And Mindsay's always been that for me. I've missed you. All of you. I'm sorry this writing isn't better. I can't think about creativity at this moment. Christopher refuses to sleep. Cheese and a juice, I think.
All I have to do is pet them and give them candy and watch as my husband gives them their baths, and as his parents and their friends decorate and cook and transform my house into a yellow and orange festival. I found leaves on my kitchen island this morning, and pie crusts in my freezer. I have two strangers in my house, Reggie and Louise's (Harry's parents, if you've forgotten) best friends. When I had gotten the particulars of the thanksgiving holiday from Edward, I decided I'd ask Harry's parents and their friends and Edward and Rev and Emmy to see if they wanted to eat dinner with us. I imagined myself throwing a wonderful party, with streamers and drinks, and hot chocolate for the children and games and costumes, maybe an old-fashioned play like James found amusing.
But on the day Harry went to pick up Reggie, Louise, Sally, and Jim (Sally and Jim being their friends, you see.) I had fallen asleep with the children, putting them down for their nap. A book was underneath my head, a pen was in my hand, and Oliver sleeping in the crook of my calf and knee.I only woke when Harry picked me up and carried me to the living room to meet Reggie and Ouisie. Everyone laughed, I was embarrassed, Harry coerced them into taking over the supper.
My party wasn't mine anymore, but I've been able to read and take naps and fawn over little Gin who has become so mysterious to me lately. She's absolutely lovely, with her hair growing and her blue eyes, and her laughing. Harry can't get enough of her, so now it is my turn. My poor children have been feeling a bit neglected, I think. Harry and I have been struggling with money, struggling with everything lately. The most stable thing about us is our relationship. We talk more, we see more of each other; Harry and I are moving forward with our lives. I have never loved someone so much. I don't think anyone has.
I want to discuss Edward, I want to be more poetic, I want to visit about Rev and Trinity (who has become such a spitfire!), but I am so exhausted. So exhausted. Every day I find myself looking older, but happier, but older still. The children, my job (I'll have to talk about that too), school and my own personal studying make me feel like I'm living three lives.
Edward likes to say I'm trying to get my past, present, and future completed all at once.
I'll try and update more often, I promise. I need something that's mine, something that isn't anyone else's. And Mindsay's always been that for me. I've missed you. All of you. I'm sorry this writing isn't better. I can't think about creativity at this moment. Christopher refuses to sleep. Cheese and a juice, I think.
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