Random Remembering

Lately it has been easy.
Poems have come, often too many words for my actual poem. They end up statements and not nearly the lyrical moments I want them to be.  I have always loved poetry. But much to my dismay, extreme emotion has been necessary for me to produce what I consider good poetry. Either I loved so hard, or have fallen so far. My actions, never really dramatic, could never keep up with the emotions I worked to keep in check.
But this really has very little to do with my opening line.
I’m feeling a bit sporadic so please bear with me, there is a point to this.
Last night when I got home from work, Camster was sleepin, and I thought I’d grab a nap with her, I don’t even remember much about what happened between getting off work, taking my brother some sushi (I’ll post on that later) and forgetting to ask my mom if she – or rather what rolls she wanted from the sushi place, and getting home, chit chatting with my grandmother and laying down to rest.
My husband at some point, broke through to the next level, and fixed the sink. I remember him trying to tell me the details, but I wasn’t really conscious. I remember him saying he was leaving then not, I know I took phone calls but I don’t remember who I talked to except for Jerry’s cousin, who gave me the great news about ‘So You Think You Can Dance’. He left me to go to home depot, and Cammy being the blessing she is – was very gentle with me in my “please just don’t destroy the house” state.
Then I woke up, spent some awake time with my girl,  actually watched my tivo’d reality TV fix and see what happened after she told me my good news. Put Cam to bed, read ‘Metro Cat’ and played with more little people. Made a mental note to pick up some additional toys for her. Then I spent the most important time I spent all day.
I told my husband the truth, that I was proud of his success with the kitchen sink. Then I rubbed his foot, and gave him a back rub, a back scratch then scratched his head until he fell asleep sprawled across our bed. Then I fell asleep with my legs across his back, crossing the t for the night.
Some days I worry that I am not passionate enough. That our every day is too mundane to keep him waking up next to me for the next fifty or so years. I worry that I miss the mark in loving them both. That I will make bad decisions for us as a family. That we will not survive.  That she will hate her mom, and want to be the exact opposite of who I am. That he will wake up and say what am I doing here? That when she needs I will not be the person she comes to.
And then I remember. I remember how he smiles at me and reaches for me in his sleep. How she calls for me and touches my face when we say bedtime prayers. How happy she is when I come home, and how sad she is when I leave and she cannot come. How we write e-mails and call all day even though we drive to and from work together and live on top of each other in our, less than large apartment. I remember that we already did the really hard part, he already chose me and I him. We know already, we just gotta make today everything we can.

And that is what has been easy.

My love for them is always at that extreme level, but when you live with it everyday, sometimes you forget. Forget that you would die for them, forget that his touch does spark everything. Forget that his good morning kiss makes your whole day better. Forget that its always the little things that keep memories from fading. Forget the poems you scribble and do not finish, the scrap pages you start but don’t get to complete, and remember they belong to you, and you belong to them.