Growing Versions

And just like that...after seeing only a curve or a line arranged in random order, the c has come into focus, along with it, the l and the p and g. That picture is a sound that I know. You can sing it or say that shape with your hands or your tongue. You can make that shape with your body or see it in a twisted branch. The c's and the b's and the t's are all around, here and there and over there. They have broken the surface that kept them just underneath. Now they are popping up all over.

“To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing.”-Henry Miller Sometimes I cannot type fast enough. Sometimes I start out typing aimlessly as I stare at the photograph I know has meaning for me. I type to figure out why. Knowing how to type without looking is my instrument. I was concealed, even from myself, before I started to write. I was an admirer of others' work certainly , but my own creative ambitions were latent. One day I started writing and taking pictures. I just started. I decided to not edit myself too much, to use my own voice and to see what happened. I began to notice other people's work more. The more I write, the more I can write. The more I write the more I can tolerate ambiguity. The more I write, the more I can wait for late buses and sit through tedi...

An elderly neighbour says he is "as good as can be expected in the circumstances." That's not nothing. The sunshine is finely tuned to just the right frequency, hovering between static and song. I don't have to strip off, the breeze does an expert job filtering away excess heat and regulating the temperature without adjustment. Flowers get noticed on days like these because their fragile lives are about to get brittle. He opens buttons. He sticks a flower in the shirt and the stem rests against his hot skin.  He suggests we take the flower home and put it in water so he can wear it again tomorrow. Just like this day. I take it home and save it for later.

You know how you don't think of someone for ages and ages and then you do and they show up shortly after? Or how you don't ever hear a word before and then you hear it more than once in the space of a week? Well, that happened to me this week. The word was ossify*.  I did not know what it meant. I had never read the word or if I had, I had glossed right over it. However, the second time hearing it prompted me to look it up. It means * to harden like bone. These parenting, multitasking days keep me rubbery I tell myself.  I keep thinking this about myself until I encounter a missing shoe, or a pokey child or an unexpected road block and then I ossify like the dickens. My son pointed out the bird's nests he made on the playground. Maybe we can catch some birds and bring them home, but we'll need to put the cats in a cage or maybe the birds. We pick up a glop of grass and sqish it together so that the birds might decide to lay their eggs in one. I reckon...

At the end of the summer we made plans to go to a water park.  We (my husband, daughter and I ) excitedly talked about what we planned to do there and in what order.  My son was ambivalent. When pushed, he said he really did not care to go.  He wanted to play more mini-golf. We decided that since he didn't seem too bothered about it that I would go with my daughter and my husband would go with my son.  That way we wouldn't waste money on something he didn't even want to do. That all seemed like a fine plan until we showed up at the parking lot and he saw the sign. A tiny lightbulb flickered on. They dropped us off and went on their way. The lightbulb's glow got more intense as the day drew on. He got agitated. He told my husband that he remembered now what park we were talking about and he in fact would have loved to have gone.  "That's where we got the balloons last year," he added. He explained further.  "You guys can read and you k...

It is one of those mornings... ...when I can pile up blankets and make slides and bouncy castles, isn't it?

I gape*on a regular basis. If I am lucky, that is. It is not easy to give over to slack jawed amazement. I arm myself with a rigidly clamped jaw. My mouth is a set of muscles rigged to tell the same anecdotes over and over to police what comes in and out. It is when I gape, though, that the passage is eased. The flow of words tumble out unguarded, but more importantly, the connections, I usually do not let myself see, come flooding in. *to stare with open mouth, as in wonder

Well, as I had anticipated for months now, the start of school has set in motion an irreversible process. My son came home with a calendar from school and he carefully studied it. It was the first time that he began to understood that a calendar  was a piece of paper that had a particular function that has an impact on him.  He examined the icons on various dates (a sun for Labour Day, a camera for picture day). It sunk in. My son's concept of time is congealing. Yesterday, after so far referring to yesterday as a few whiles ago , and two days from now being the other tomorrow , my son asked for some confirmation. "Today is number 12, isn't it?" Yes, and tomorrow is the 13th.

Last night the kids drew a big chalk town complete with a movie theatre, library and waterslide park.  My daughter proceeded to deliver newspapers to each of the addresses along the route. It became a very intricate game and the construction of new addresses was steady throughout the evening.  It occurred to me that her generation of kids will likely be the very last for it to even occur to pretend to be a newspaper deliverer. The kids born in the coming years likely won't even come into contact with newspapers that you can buy off a shelf, let alone ones that get delivered to your home.

As much as I find it hard to admit it, I find this time of year a bit exhilarating. As the chill sets in, I begin to turn my attention to galvanising* a routine that will make things happen  and happen with some semblance of order. As the beach days blur into memory,  it begins:  The sanding down of all the plans and schemes into a workable arrangement that allows for some head space in between fulfilling work and family responsibilities. It starts hard and heavy. It lurches and spits out possibilities. It throws new expectations our way. Certain habits start, others fall away. I get flustered and overwhelmed and slowly(too slowly) acknowledge (once again) that I can't do it all. A workable arrangement  stops. It starts. It stops. It starts a different way. And so that is how the new school year, our joint enterprise, begins. The workable arrangement  will most definitely be sanded down along many different contours by the...

This week school started. For our youngest, it was his first time. He was excited and a little worried, but it was all a big adventure as far as he was concerned. As we left the kids the first day at school and went on our way, something was missing. I was missing my travelling companion. Normally, we would drop off his sister and then go on our way to poke our way to preschool or daycare.  We'd have to check out every stick and rock and tree. I was missing the little 2 and then 3 and then 4 year old preschooler who didn't go to school yet. I did not expect to miss that little companion so much.  Of course, he's still around on weekends and afternoons and he still loves to pick up sticks and theorise about stuff as he goes, but it was a tangible re-jumbling those first few days.

"I know that I am not a category. I am not a thing-a noun, I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process."-Buckminster Fuller

Denial kept us from spending money on indoor shoes and duo tangs until the very last minute. We were having too much fun eating meals in our swimsuits to acknowledge what was coming. The result was a very chaotic and intense shopping trip to a big box store. Ahead of and behind us in the thirty-five minute line were numerous university students buying crock pots, bedding and full-length mirrors (now I know that a lot of full-length mirrors get bought in this season, I really had no idea). Attempting to maintain some level of patience and grace in these proceedings, we kept busy playing guessing games, etc... but every once in a while the anxiety would climb up and leap out of my mouth. I sighed heavily and said to my daughter, just think, "it won't be long before you will go to university and you'll have all those things(full-length mirrors and toasters) to buy too." She replied, "Mama, let's just concentrate on me being in grade three." T...

One day after preschool, Mama's tummy was grumbly. She told me something that was very surprising.  She said she was so hungry she wanted to nibble my toes. I was shocked.  She does not usually make a habit of eating my toes.  "My toes?  What about yours?" I asked. She made a face (a face she makes when she tastes something disgusting).  "Oh no, I couldn't possibly.  Adults taste terrible." "What? They do?" "Oh yes, it's true."  Mama told me. "They work hard taking care of kids and typing on computers and building bridges and car ramps. All that work makes them extremely tough to eat. Trust me, you just wouldn't care for the taste." "I'm very hungry." She told me again, this time with a pleading look in her eyes." I think I will just have a little snack from your ears." "What?  My ears!  No way!  Eat your own ears!" Mama shook her head.  "No,  are you crazy? I can...

We are gearing up for a new year. We are Starting New Projects , tackling old problems , and beginning a new chapter . We have stocked up on sunshine, we have roamed, we have introduced baby cousins to blackberries and said goodbye to a  close friend. And now, we turn our heads. I feel the urge to burrow. This time of year contains a lot of promise and intentions.  With promise comes fear, fear of messing up and a misplaced determination to perfect  my life. These beautiful words inspired me and put me in my place tonight.  It is to be broken. It is to be torn open. It is not to be reached and come to rest in ever. I turn against you, I break from you, I turn to you. We hurt, and are hurt, and have each other for healing. It is healing. It is never whole. -Wendell Berry