Buffeted

Trying to hold steady over here, tossed by some tempestuous storms of emotion.
Sound effects: The thunder of slamming doors. The lightning bolts of anger.
I want to be a calm and loving rock. Waves wash against me but I am here, steady, comforting.
It's not easy.

What is it about 12? I'm not sure.
Wanting to still be little, cozy up in the sweetness and comfort of rituals. Bedtime song, stories, indulgences.
Wanting to grow up and be have more independence, more choices, more say.
Not wanting the responsibility that comes with such.
Add in the stresses of homework, of peer pressure, of friends in similar yet different stages of caught-between. Add in a brother who in some ways appears to have left the world of childhood behind (though not really, not yet). Leaving 12 in the push and pull of the in-between.

And then a mama away from home working, working far more than the standard 40 hours a week.
A papa struggling to do his best with the demands of running the home front, running the show, building a business. The solid center of home and family: it's here always, but right now feels like an ache of needing more. We need more time together.

Here we are. Trying. Directing our intentions.
Breathe in kindness. Breathe out peace.

And finding  moments of quiet jogging through the early morning mist while the sky lightens in the east.