Tiny Duchess

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The year has started already and I am slow to start with it.  No resolutions. No new goals.  Just continue to make time with the Duchesses. 

The two older ones are busier these days. I will need to work harder to get in their schedule.  That is part of the process of growing up.  I am thankful I am still able to go and do with them. I am anxious to have a weekend with them again.  I am missing my no longer little Duchesses.

The little one has a hold on me like no one. The first two were a pair.  A lot of time we have is the two of them playing with each other. I suppose it is because in the first days of this Tiny Duchess, I was with my little one so much more.   Or more likely, it is the place I am in my life now.  Older, retired, more time on my hands.  Maybe it is just her.    

At any rate, if I go too many days without seeing her, I start to feel unsettled.  We are hoping she will be ready to spend the night with us soon.  She is like her Paw Paw.  Wants to sleep in her own bed in her own room at her own house.  Don’t tell Paw Paw, but Granny is getting that way, too.

Over my lifetime, I have spent a lot of time with little ones.  Babies and toddlers and preschoolers.  I have known a lot of very sharp little minds.  This tiniest Duchess seems to have an edge on all of them.  I did notice a touch of stubbornness yesterday.  Certainly not her father’s hard headedness, but just a little of wanting to do something and not as easily redirected. 

She is always talking about her Paw Paw.  Wakes up in the morning asking for him, cries for him when she gets tired.  He plays with her like a kid.  The baby whisperer, he has been called.

 Watch his face when he talks to a little one.  He is fully engaged and animated.  To the rest of the world, he is rough around the edges and tough as old boot leather.  But, with children, he is laughter and tickles and tumbling and racing.  It has been said very accurately that you cannot be sensitive and be friends with him.  That is true.  But, not for little ones, certainly not for the Duchesses.  And absolutely not for the Tiny Duchess. 

Trying.

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Hello again.  Here I am trying to restart.  I don’t know why I am not posting anymore.  I’m certainly not out of words.  I have dozens of hand scribbled journals to prove otherwise.  I suppose I just feel I am repeating the same things over and over.  I like to think I that even though the topics are repeating, I am spiraling up and not just spinning flat. 

Over the past three years, I should have accomplished more creatively.  I have no excuse. 

The real reason for not moving forward is fear.  Fear of failure. Fear of ridicule. Fear of success.  Fear of an empty well.  Fear of plowing headlong into the bottom of a shallow pool.  Fear of one and done.  Fear of insanity.  Fear of grief. 

What do I think I should have already done? I should have an outline or first draft of a book or three.  I should have prints of my photography ready to sell.  I should have a full book of anecdotes and associated photos compiled.  Should have. Could have. Would have. Except for fear. 

Funny thing. It isn’t the idea of strangers seeing my words and images.  It is the idea of people I know seeing them.  The acquaintances and associates who are not part of my inner circle, my tribe, my posse.  I have a very small ring of people who have seen my heart in person and not only through Raining Orchids.  It’s an odd feeling to speak to someone I really don’t know well and have them know me from this space.  It adds to the fear.  Fear of exposure.  Of overexposure.  Of being misunderstood. 

In an effort to move forward on other projects, I hope to regain my composure and meet myself here on the page every week.  Say a little prayer I will honor my heart and overcome fear.