In and out

Sometimes I daydream about those quiet mornings at Starbucks on E Main Street. The mornings when I sat front row as the dance of snowflakes took place across my windshield at 4:50 am as I waited for the doors to open. Where I'd shuffle inside and frantically begin writing before the sun made its debut, halting the silence of those early morning writers. 

Sometimes I daydream about those lazy afternoons they call siestas when I'd sit on a blanket and write in the San Martin plaza. While families sipped their cooling terrere I would soak up the details to wring them out on paper; allowing me to again soak up the gibberish that never did make it back out. 

Do you suppose that somedays we take in more than we put out? And other days we quite possibly put out more than we take in.

I've had a reverie or two (or 20) consisting of palm trees and sunshine, ocean breeze and sandy bottoms. It quickly collides with the phenomenon of my absolutely wonderful existence -- pine trees and the color GREEN, blue skies and snow, my beautiful baby boy and experiencing all of this through his sweet baby blue eyes. 

Some days I'd give anything to sit down and take it all in; soaking up the details in every square inch surrounding me until it all explodes on a paper. Like the blocks and balls that have burst from their places. 

But then I look down at the monitor of my sweet baby waking and realize that my time is up. Indeed, I have absorbed oodles of love and tears; the details cannot be written. But maybe these small moments will be enough.