Cafe Stories

The cafe is slow and steady but my writing is sporadic, hiding between thoughts of four hundred word challenges and how I have to get the hair out of the bathroom sink. Images from “The Ring” whistle by and I notice a wasp kill a random bug outside the cafe window. Or maybe it was his own butt the whole time. I’ll never know. The truth is I didn’t feel like writing about the wasp or anything else happening right in front of me but I couldn’t make up anything else more interesting.

Still Written

There are many times I give away my time to write. I give it and give it and give till I’m writing 10 words and starving for solitude. I know I should hang on tighter to my time to write. I should be more demanding but it’s such a slippery thing. It shifts and molds in countless ways. I grip, then I give my last five minutes and I’m left grasping at nothing. I slip away because writing isn’t something that can come or go. I, the writer am coming and going. Writing does not cry without me, I cry without it. I ache and spiral and shift when I’ve strayed too far, but it is always as I left it, blank, unfinished, or completed. But when I return I won’t be exactly the same as I was when I left.

-Saschia On Writing

Peace Space

The breezeway is full of stuff I’ve been meaning to get to.

Some new shelves

Chalks and bubbles

Toys and board games for fun family game nights

I’ll get to it.

To the organizing and shelf building

I have the set up in my head.

Two benches

Th kind with cubbies on the bottom

One with a few cushions warmed by the sunlight

The other bare under the chalkboard hung on the wall

And then shelves will fill the rest of the space

I’ll fill them with books

This will be our space. The place we go for peace and reminders of our inner child.

I’ll build this space

I will

-Saschia

A Warm Up

Lenses are clearing

And fishing has begun

Tap tap tippity tap

Sounds the keys

An alarm to wake up

My creativity

There’s hope

It floats by once in a while

There’s bouts of numbness I dont want to speak of

But we need this

We need this To live

to sacrifice our bloody insides

To return to the ash

We have yet to become

-saschia

Under God’s Gaze

my boobs ache and my nipples crack

millimeter by millimeter

I grit as they tread my parted crevices

and I allow it

bloody bleeding

I choose everyday to keep going

“it’s all temporary” they keep telling me

and as I wander off to dream my breasts fill

they weigh me down

down down down the spiral

I am a woman who is tied to her children

I am a woman who has bled on white carpets

on the white sheets and into the hands of strangers

But I tell myself this will be over

this will end

I treasure the moments like they tell me

As my tummy sags while I squat squat squat to a popular rhythm

I can only hope it lifts just one more inch

missed meals a drooping breast

my body aches it aches from sacrifice

for him for her for the good God almighty

my dreams wait and become impatient

they gnaw and cause un-lady-like outbursts

my faith in God dwindles

and it all makes less sense the more I give

and rest and give

the more I come alive

The church steps in but it’s no use

it’s too late I’ve nothing left to give

I have no care left

call me what you like

keep me in your prayers

but these bones have grown too tired of trying to get

you to understand what it’s like when you’re not around

Tugged

The future is bound to my neck

I hold her close and nurture her till the time comes to let her go

The past is bound to my ankle

I don’t live there

I only use what I learned

My core was steady

but childbirth has weakened it

My bones light

buried beneath these layers of skin

My blood trickled on memories

On humans

On dreams

On goes the thumping of my heart

It thumps it thumps it thumps

And like a warrior of no tribe

I wear my stripes

my chin held high

Because the future needs

to be nurtured by a warrior.

-Saschia

Cookies with a Side of Fitness

Sitting here outside the gym eating Milanos. I might finish the bag before I finish this piece. It’s the double dark chocolate flavor. There’s a lesson to be learned here. But I’m sure I already know it. The class starts in ten. There’s two cookies left and I should stop eating them but I probably won’t. I should take this all more seriously I mean my health is a priority as a mother. Ok I’ll leave the last two for tomorrow.

Signed,

A hungry breastfeeding mother