how do you get to the end of a summer and really reach the point where you can put it into words?
how do you capture weeks of camps, and all the kid hugs, laughs, dances, games, tears, i love yous, and sad goodbyes in a blogpost?
there are so many stories.
so many emotions.
so many deep down experiences that really, when it comes down to it, can only ever be captured with the heart.
for me, i think there is a tendency to shy away from any invasion into my house of memories that is stored away after a summer, or a winter, or a lifetime of living and loving.
rather than attempt, and fail, to convey for someone else's comprehension, the countless stories i've encountered, the endlessly deep eyes i've looked into, the hopelessly, gut-wrenching cries i've heard, i just remain silent.
in my quiet place i take out those memories, and i contemplate, i grieve, i resolve, i become re-invigorated to make changes in my world, in the lives i know, in the ways i can.
sometimes when someone asks me, "how was china?" or "how's kinmen?" i try.
i try to open the locked up place and let them in.
i'm glad they care enough to ask.
i'm glad they want to know.
but it's hard, in a few minutes of conversation, to see them really grasp or fathom the depth of the story i am telling...the grandmother, the idol worshipper, the orphan, the real-life person behind the story.
this summer's end, as i have returned "home" to the states for the time being, i have found myself coping with all the stories crashing on the shores of my heart by hiding. not that i have stopped feeling or remembering, i just stopped going there.
stopped going deep.
stopped taking out the key and entering into the locked up place.
because it's easier if i just focus on here and now.
it's easier if i don't feel the pain.
it's better all around if it stays locked up.
but somehow today, i found myself forced to remember.
somehow something triggered those feelings locked up deep down.
memories of faces, of cuddles, of tantrums, of desperate bids for love and affection crashed over my heart again like waves that i couldn't and didn't want to hold back.
as i wept for their loss, ached for their abandonment, prayed for their rescue and healing, i longed for a way to convey each story, and paint each face in a way that brings to life for others these forgotten ones.
as i wracked my brain for a way to do this, the answer came.
"you have to write."
and so this post is a resolve to write.
i write for tian xi, and for you peng and guang peng
for justin and for jo
for cindy and lucy and antony and susan and for the scores of people i can't name here who have made their imprints on my heart.
it might be slow in coming.
it might be one slow story at a time.
but i want to at least try to create with words pictures of the people i see and love.
i'm taking out the key and i'm walking inside...
who wants to go with me?
