I sit and stare at a blank page, my mind thoughtless with exhaustion, a million to-do's clouding the ability to have a coherent strain of thought. What do I want to say? So much, not enough. The words don't always come. I have a writer in me that sometimes needs the permission to be set free. What I write in the moment feels like nonsense - random ramblings amounting to nothing - but I know someday, I hope, my words make a difference. If only to touch another's life - or perhaps just alter my own - that is what I yearn towards. I wrestle with comparison and competition - what do I have to say that hasn't been said? What do I have to put out there that isn't already "old news"? The deepest part of my desire is tangled up in a web of feeling like I can't. Or maybe that old perfectionist bug coming back to bite. 

My heart today is hopeful. Hoping for life as we know it to return. Hoping for all of this 2020ness to be over. Hoping for the vaccine to appear to people in a way they can't say No. Hoping, hoping, hoping. Hope is a vulnerable feeling, like love, there is always the fear that perhaps the worst is actually around the corner. But really, can it get worse? The burden of 2020 has fallen on the mothers - the mothers left without the support they so heavily rely on to get through the day; the lack of childcare, socialization (for themselves and the kids); answering to the pressure to work; patiently and lovingly care for children, homeschool, cook, keep a house clean... all of this on our shoulders. And where is the credit? Where is the affirmation? Where is the end-in-sight? For others, it has been a year of rest. For mothers, this has been a year of hell. Let's call it what it is and let it be that. It is the Mothers who deserve the standing ovation in this moment. Birthing children with masks on; going to appointments alone, standing before the world hand-in-hand with our children forced to mask the fear, uncertainty, and pain of it all for the preservation of a child's wonder with the magic of the universe. How hard this has been. As a mother, please be near and hear our cries. Let this year be different. Everyone needs to do their part to let this year be different, if not for yourself, do it for the mothers.