Listening

I putter in the kitchen, slightly unwillingly but nonetheless doing it. The sounds of laughter and voices drift in waves from the living room and I want to be back there in the middle of it, joining in, not here in the cold kitchen with the dirty dishes, dried up dips, shriveled olives, and sticky floors. It's always the mom-job though, the clearing and cleaning and puttering, and I resolutely put on some holiday music and begin scraping and combining and tossing. As I work, the sounds from the living room become sweeter than any music I could ever find on the radio though, and I turn off the old JVC and start listening. I listen to this blended family of his-n-hers-n-theirs and as always my heart is shattered into fragments of love, loss, guilt, regret, resolve, and gratitude. I don't know where this family is headed, any one of them, but I know every decision and choice I make will impact each of these precious souls. And some days I don't want to make any choice or decision at all for fear of hurting these good and sweet people currently present. The laughter is near constant, puntuated by the variety of voices telling stories, remembering past moments, and those who add embellishments. The low rumble of the older boys sets the foundation: the two college boy-men with their facial hair and endless legs and appetites. The girls voices rise and fall in a dance around them, piercing giggles from the two younger sisters in high school and the slightly fuller voice of one of the boys' college girlfriend. And weaving it all together is the bird-like chirp of the toddler that connects them all to one another irrevocably. The staccato laugh of one will set off peals of laughter from another which causes the wheezy breathlessness of a third and on and on until they are rolling on the floor with tears streaming down their cheeks imploring each other to "Stop, stop, I'm dying! Please stahhhhp". And that is sometimes what I say to myself - with tears streaming down my cheeks - Stop. I'm dying. Please stop. I so very much love these half grown people, and the tiny little toddler that ties them all together with his little bird voice and his wet kisses and undeniable self righteous demand for attention. And yet... I am alternately full of gratitude for the partner with which I share these amazing spirits, and full of the desperate need to let go of a relationship that just doesn't work. I want to listen to my heart, but all I can hear is the laughter and love of these children.