I look out my hallway window and watch the sky turn bright rust. The thing inside of me pulled me out of bed before the sun climbed into view: It needed to express. I needed to walk downstairs and play the guitar, or write, or play my sax; otherwise, there may be a storm rising from deep within myself. It would then be a rocky day for everyone around me. The thing inside of me needed to express.
I turned my attention from the dawn and watched my wife, cj, sleep. She looked like a lake before the wind disturbs the water: still, calm, and peaceful. She loves me. In her peaceful state, she seems to say to me, “I’m safe. I trust you.” Though I risk waking her, I caress her cheek and slightly kiss her forehead. I love her, too.
There’s not much time these days, I need to get downstairs and let the thing inside scream and wail and purge its needs that I don’t always understand or manage well before the day’s needs take over me and suppress the thing inside of me. But, I find myself walking into my son’s room to kiss him good morning. Each day I remember wrapping him in his baby blanket. He looked for all the world to me like a little glowworm doll. Since then, I’ve called him, worm, and to me, he’ll always be that little baby wrapped in a blanket. His whole life awaits him: I know he, like me, will have a need to express that he may not always understand or manage well. I have so much to learn: How am I ever going to teach him? His whole life awaits.
Reflecting on my cj and worm has swelled the thing inside and it’s about to explode. I have no idea how I am lucky enough to have them in my life. The thing inside of me will just as readily seek to destroy, as it will to express and create. Neither the guitar nor words are going to be enough. Today’s expression will have to be the sax. The storm will be strong and will rage and blow so then I’ll have to blow so that the thing inside will pour into my house and out of me. It’ll be a good day.