Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Last night I had a dream about my unborn children.

I've been thinking about them a lot the past few days because I threw away a lot of artwork from my original K-12 collections, and maybe they would have liked to see it?* I'd drafted a small apology to them in my head which I was going to post here. But, last night they showed up in my dream. There were four of them. College age. They were standing by my bed and chatting it out between them. I felt like I was listening to a podcast, and I kept thinking to myself that I had to remember everything they said. The only thing I remember now is thinking that they were really smart. And the oldest, a boy said, "Our job is really hard!"


*Don't worry, I saved the mud finger paint piece I did of a human sacrifice in the 3rd grade (after watching Joe v. the Volcanoe).


  1. I'm curious how the finger paint sacrifice piece beat out anything else?

  2. WAIT. I love your children!

  3. This story makes me happy and sad. Love you!

  4. Waiting

    By Raymond Carver

    Left off the highway and
    down the hill. At the
    bottom, hang another left.
    Keep bearing left. The road
    will make a Y. Left again.
    There's a creek on the left.
    Keep going. Just before
    the road ends, there'll be
    another road. Take it
    and no other. Otherwise,
    your life will be ruined
    forever. There's a log house
    with a shake roof, on the left.
    It's not that house. It's
    the next house, just over
    a rise. The house
    where trees are laden with
    fruit. Where phlox, forsythia,
    and marigold grow. It's
    the house where the woman
    stands in the doorway
    wearing the sun in her hair. The one
    who's been waiting
    all this time.
    The woman who loves you.
    The one who can say,
    "What's kept you?"


the rules: comment moderation is enabled to protect the innocent.