Heart of my heart, me to the bone.

Now sitting in the kitchen surrounded by sacred silence, and the aroma of fresh, hot, black coffee.  Beautiful baby girl sleeping after an epic drive in the van to bring the boys to school.   Snow drifts, running starts, molasses traffic, and 50 minutes later the precious cargo has been delivered.  Dropping off two of the things that are most precious to me, entrusting them to a system that I don't completely trust, praying for Gods grace to make up the lack.  Lack of care, of supervision, of tenderness.  Knowing that the underpaid workers do there best, but there is simply not enough of them to go around.  The bright shine out, the dull are buffed, the in between forgotten, left to hold up their own.  I was an in between, not brilliant, not dumb and completely unmotivated.  I still have anxiety dreams of being tossed back into high school, having missed a class completely. Now having to sit with freshmen and take a test that I never studied for on which my future relies.  I take pause to sip down the fresh hot coffee, and savor the silence in the kitchen.  The floor is still sticky from an early morning mishap.  My mukluks bear the residue a silent testimony, a witness.  I was never known as graceful and am the antonym of athletic.  So it was no shock and at the same time a great one, when the bottle of rice vinegar landed on my forehead as I attempted to reach the crackers, so obviously out of reach.  Glass and sticky vinegar everywhere, as I befuddled attempted to clean it up in bare feet and tears.  It was a real "Wieditz" moment.  Hearkening me back to the days when athletics ruled the world, and I couldn't catch a pop fly for the life of me.  I didn't fit the mold, and wanted for the longest time to be able to re-form myself.  Never completely satisfied with the reflection in the mirror.  Looking out instead of up.  Teachers aren't given the tools to handle things like this, they teach a subject, have objectives, place a value on the work of a student and move on to the next class.  I don't fault them, they get paid far too little and do way too much.  Still as I drop off the pieces of my heart, a wave of concern occasionally crests.  Leif will have no problem, he is adventurous, outgoing, cute, and athletic.  My only concern for him is that he will use his powers for good and not evil.  Ezekiel, heart of my heart, flesh of my flesh, me to the bone.  He cares so deeply, wants so much to do good, to get it right, to be accepted.  Once again the mirror is in front of me.  I know him all too well, and so I pray that God will protect his tender heart.  And I release him full well knowing that he will be hurt by others, he will be rejected, but to love him is to let learn how to cope with out me.  Heart of my heart.  If only I could carry you for always, but soon you will be too big for my arms and too far for my reach.  The kitchen becomes crowded as housemates begin their morning routines, they are unaware of the silence my soul craves.  Choosing to live with so many people, good and bad, bitter and sweet.  Completely of my choosing.  Wouldn't change it except in this moment, and so I pick up my things and move to the parlor room.  Sunlight streams through windows that need washed, Cats in the Cradle plays as I piece together my thoughts.  I realize that my fears are not Ezekiel's reality, and that I am no longer "Wieditz".  One day I will learn to cast my vision up and not out.  Until then, Gods grace is sufficient.