We haven't seen the sun since Sunday. The clouds have hung around like blankets, offering a bit of rest and respite before the swell of summer activities that begins this weekend. It is our last week of our first year of homeschooling... and we are taking things quietly. Reviewing and reading and easing our way into a schedule of more relaxed days and a routine of not much. 

But we want the sun. At nearly five and six and a half, the kids need to be outside. Thunderstorms loom and the inside of our home is bursting with energy and this is another reminder that I cannot contain wild beings. 

They are not meant to be contained, these children. 

I've been feeling the same way about writing. That it cannot be contained. That if you have the itch for it, the want, the desire to stream words together, they cannot be contained to a mind. They need to be spilled out, bursting forth from a safe, comfortable home with wild abandon. 

Wild. How often do we see that word and cringe? Cower in the face of a wild thought or craving or urge? Scared that it might be too much. Too primal. Indecent. But maybe, just maybe, if we let go of some our inhibitions regarding all things wild, we can connect to our natural, our primal, needs and fulfill ourselves in a deeper more fulfilling way. Instead of stifling and hiding. 

And so the blanket of clouds offers a bit of a cushion, a pillow of rest before the swell. 

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