old notes

Going through some old notebooks to collect notes for the story I'm working on. Found these two little bits:

The comedy of how much control I want versus how little I have. I want the laundry to stay in its pile rather than be dragged across the floor. I want her to let me read to her without tearing/biting throwing the book. I want to decide how long I can stay in a store, or outside for that matter. I'm sure I should learn something right now about giving up control.
(January 2009)

I watch the snow become less each day. Out in the courtyard the ground gradually shows more. The layer of ice is softening and weakening. Now you could pick up parts of it in your hands.Under the ice on the lake there is surely subtle cracking and shifting.

You can also feel this in yourself, and your own desire to melt. The knots in your shoulders would like to melt. Your whole body would like to melt and remember that melted trusting feeling you knew before.
(March 2006?)