During this last week, I have taken care of my toddler, who had to stay home from daycare due to being sick with the flu. This has resulted in me not having the time to finish the Substack piece I had planned for this week, while also having more time together with my child, with all that it entails - enjoying the closeness and playing together, but also cleaning up spilled milk and getting through tantrums.
In a way, this week was a precious reminder to practice what I preach - to let myself flow with the currents of life, even when they take me in unplanned directions, instead of trying to control the flow. I end the week with a sense of awe for this rollercoaster ride of emotions that is called life. As I write these words, there is a momentary calm settling over the apartment, as my toddler and partner are both having a nap in the other room. I sit here writing by the window, watching as a surprising sunray (in an otherwise rainy day) is shining through the tiny leaves in the tree outside.
Somehow this week made me think of a poem I wrote a few years back, on a summer that was particularly hot and dry, and I was contemplating different stages in my life, while sitting by a lake in Finland, watching the children playing in the water. So I thought I would share that poem to you.
Lots of love,
Minnamari
With sand between my toes there's
nothing wrong
A cleansing summer swim and
children's song
I remember when I was like them
Invincible and wild
Runnin' free was natural then
No need to be mild
Forest fires raging
so hot and dry and still
The air holds its breath waiting
Not bowing to the will
Of sweating little creatures
Who long to feel a breeze
There's nowhere to run off to
No flowers for the bees
The fields are a cemetery
Without shelter from the trees
The earth is cracking open
And all growth will cease
Yet the children run and sing
There’s no weight yet, on their wings
I stand my ground but can't stop
shaking
Wonder when my heart will stop
aching
The pain seems to grow with my
years
As a child I took pride in hidden
tears
Bullies never saw my sadness
But at home I was pure madness
Page after page of the diary
black
Those are the days I don't want to
bring back
But neither are they mine to deny
I will cherish them until I die
For the thing I like about growing
older
Is to no longer care to pretend that I'm
colder
Against love I admit my defeat
with precious sand on my feet
Burning bright like a forest fire
To live a life with love is my deepest desire.
P.S. For this post, I have enabled the audio voiceover for all subscribers - free and paid alike, and anyone dropping in to check out this post without subscribing as well. I just thought it would be nice to share this letter, and this poem in my own voice to all of you.