I read a dozen mothers say they aren't ready for their babies to go off to school. But every child must, and so of course they will, never mind the mother's instinct to not let her small child go from the shelter of her arms, the gentle peace of a free childhood ...
I didn't let my child go. There was one week when I seriously considered it, when we lived next to a school and I heard all the laughter at lunch time, and it felt like the roar of all society saying you should, every child must. So I enrolled her there, and cried all weekend. I felt as if I'd been fighting a great war for years and now was surrendering for no good reason at all. At the end of the weekend, I cancelled her enrollment and held her close, that she could stay free.
Why must we always let go? Let go of love, of pain? What about holding on for all it's worth? I don't understand the pursuit of detachment. What a lonely way to live. And I don't understand why we listen to other people who make a profit from our broken instincts.
I will hold on to dark memories. They are my memories. I will not dwell in them, but why would I vivisect my soul to be rid of them?
I will hold on to my love. I won't let it be unhooked from me, stored away from me, appropriated by others, screened remotely.
I will hold on to fear, for it illuminates my love. I will hold on to the loam and forest and western skies where I belong, no matter where I end up.
I will not believe that every single writer needs an editor to make their words worthwhile. I will hold on to my creative voice. I will keep myself.
I will keep copyright on my words and pictures. I will not let go of what I know to be right, even if the rest of the world is merrily going in the opposite direction.
I will not relinquish my heart. I will not give it up to you - but I will share it with you, all of it, and all my bones and sorrows and dreams too.
The only thing I will set loose is the idea that I should anything just because someone else says so. I will hold on to a deeper truth.