I don't have much to write today. At least not any introspective nonsense. It was mothers day, I spent most of it with my children while my wife was away with her mom and extended family. I went outside and refused to let myself dwell in the emotional miasma from yesterday.
I taught my daughter to ride her bike without training wheels. Not exactly succesful as she wanted me to replace them when she was tired of falling down on the hot asphalt. She did a good job, she really had her mind set on it. She listened to her body and realized she needed to come back and try again another day. I was proud of her for that. She didn't let her frustration win, she took it as far as she possibly could.
My son wasn't so lucky on the bike. He's older and a little more confident. Well away from training wheels. A car was squeaking down the lot, not going extremely fast. He turned to watch for the car and ran into a dump truck parked in the lot. I don't think he's ever really taken a hard spill from a bike before, nor do I think he's ever had the wind knocked out of him. He's fine, I'm sure he learned to be a little more spatially aware.
In between hanging out with the kids, I figured I needed to punch something for a while as I felt the vague tinge of yesterdays miasma creeping through the cracks of a nice ass afternoon. I couldn't let the darkness in. I couldn't afford to think. I needed my thoughts to completely disappear so I could live in the moment with my children - So I wouldn't ruin another evening with my wife.
So I continuously beat a poor, defenseless bag to make myself feel better.
Soundtrack:
And you know what? I feel a lot better.