nothing can be stolen from us we choose

well, I almost missed it. I was too busy making lists and then more lists of lists of things to do and blah blah blah.

me and the ez, we've been walking a lot lately. so much so that we've started to explore unchartered territory. we live in a beautiful old neighborhood but we're both a little tired of it and so stroller boy and I have been hitting up the other side of the tracks. and switching up the scenery like that was just what we needed. we walk alongside the tracks and watch the trains pass. the sounds are deafening but ezra loves a good choo choo and I enjoy the occasional graffiti piece that races by. there are hidden gardens and dandelions to look for and honeysuckle is crazy fragrant right now. deep inhalations of honeysuckle make me feel tender and nostalgic. it's a scent that always makes me think of when I first moved to atlanta, of summers spent dancing in north carolina. a strange sort of melancholy washes over me and I feel a little bit like unravelling, like I want to cry and laugh at the same time. this happens in the seven seconds it takes to breathe in and breathe out and then I'm over it. we seem to pass a lot of wild honeysuckle bushes and so it's like I'm riding my own personal emotional roller coaster.

if I time it just right, the boy succumbs to sleep. this is when I look for a place to park the stroller, somewhere I can read or write or just have a minute to myself, for pete's sake. this usually only lasts for about five minutes or so because the ez is lulled into dreamland by movement. stop the walking, wake the boy. and if the boy wakes from a nap he was enjoying, there will be crying and whining and body-stiffening and nashing of teeth so I take what I can get and MOVE MOVE MOVE at the first sign of restlessness. my brother has always said that if you were an alien visiting our world, you'd think the babies were the kings and queens of the land. you know, since we push them around in plush, jacked-up cadillac strollers and cater to their every need. this makes me laugh.

on friday, we found the perfect park bench. and since ezra was fast asleep, I got out the notebook of lists and got down to business. five minutes flew by and ezra began to whimper. just as I was about to shift into turbo mother mode, I spotted a tiny piece of paper with typed words taped to the pole. and it's not really a big deal but the words stopped me and all that was going on in my head and around me and on the street. the words, they seemed to shine. I have been at the farmers market and felt that unmistakable sense of calm. I wondered who wrote this, how long it had been taped there and if there were more. I wanted the author to know that it changed the course of my day, that I couldn't stop thinking about it, that I felt an electricity run through my mind and body and out through my fingertips. ideas had my head spinning. what would I type on a small piece of paper? where would I tape it? would it affect anyone? I'd been doing a lot of thinking about guerilla art, especially since michelle's visit to atlanta. I had been thinking about all the projects I'd planned for the year (so inspired by 52 projects) and couldn't remember the last time I made something/did something just for the sake of doing it.

to whomever took the time to write those words out and tape them to the black pole next to the park benches near the train tracks: thank you.