I have so many thoughts and ideas, beautiful poems and prose that bounce in my head, and yet, sadly, they rarely make it into something tangible, either because of my time schedule or my own crippling fear of being vulnerable. I wrote a poem just the other night about what the night does while we sleep. Is it jealous of the day because we pay much more attention there or is it content to watch us while we dream? I'm weird, I know this.
Some things going on:
Aria and her dad are moving to Kansas City in the next few weeks. I have known that they were going to move there eventually, but I did not know it would be this soon. He really wants us to move there too, so I am torn over moving to be closer to my daughter or staying here and being close to the rest of my family. If I move there I will be separated by everyone and everything I know, but I will be able to see my daughter. Life's choices are NEVER easy. It builds character right? Remember the poster with the kitten barely gripping the tree branch with the words "Hang In There" at the top? Yep. I need some of those cheesy motivational posters around me.
I have not posted on social media about the move because I wanted to tell my family about it in person, I don't think Facebook is where someone should read about that. And, because it involves my daughter, and because I don't want to risk someone in his circle taking what ever I say and twisting my words.
