Growing Versions

Twice now, I've returned to visit  two of my old elementary schools (we moved a lot), only to discover that they had long since been torn down.   The fields within which they sat did not betray their pasts. The land that once hosted thousands of drawings, and glue and tears and snot and fear and beginnings and endings and friendships now held none of those things. A young tree and a well manicured lawn grew in the place of one, nothing but overgrown grass occupied the place of the other. This week I watched the daily progress of an old school be dismantled on my way to work. Watching a school get taken apart is hard.  Even if I never attended this one, it's vacant and slowly deteriorating shell was holding a place. Now the halls that it contained, the stains, the way the light fell on books so many days in a row is only occupying the minds of former students and teachers.  And later when our minds lose those memories, this school ...

A new trend in posting art work has emerged in our house.  My son, snuggling with the cat, yelled from the next room asking that I take a picture and "post it online" so that everyone is Scotland could see him  (and the cat).  The last few pieces of art that have been created or brought home have been tacked up in front of a window facing out.  The rationale is simple.  Even though the window is not on the ground floor, this presentation method allows people "out there" to see the work.  As preschool ends, and my son turns his face (and whole self) towards the mysterious prospects of big school, he is starting, little by little to unfold outwards. He steps towards a new phase, where I will have an incrementally decreasing  share of  a vantage point on his inner thoughts and feelings.

I came across this article about  Untranslatable words  by Lauren McKay in Urban Times awhile back and the term that spoke to me the most was the Japanese term Mono No Aware*. This term, according to McKay relates to "the bitter sweetness of transience, and a sadness for the passing of things." I'm not a fan of endings. I definitely have a melancholy bent. I hate when books end. I cling to stages my kids are in long after they themselves have abandoned them (i.e. what? no more sippy cups (and breastfeeding before that)?, come on guys). I prolong saying goodbye in many different ways. I hold on to memorabilia, like ticket stubs and cat hair (okay, not anymore) and old letters.   I leave my Christmas ornaments up way too long and agonize over little changes (haircuts and throwing out my daughter's school work) and much bigger ones (moving house and swapping jobs) with almost the same measure. Beginnings I can do. I start lots of things on a regular basis. I star...

On one of our last days of vacation and after a day or more of rain, we head over to the beach to eek out a little beach light.  At first the light was there but shrouded in sketchy clouds.  We made videos of doing the splits and made necklaces and dug a hole, a very deep hole.  Little by little the clouds dissipated and the light that had been so far away all day broke free.  The kids continued to play and their little bodies became glowier and glowier.  Soon, the daylight gave way to the fiery sunset light.  My daughter was thrilled to be witnessing such a glorious sunset and she began to make plans to set my alarm so we could watch the sunrise.  We never did make it for the sunrise. Someday we will. There is something so primal and mystical about sunsets.  They betwitch us and nudge us towards the night. Slowly but surely the sunset released us from this day.

Photo Source:  thesetingstaketime.com  via  Stephanie  on  Pinterest I love to laugh.  I love laughing so hard I lose  control.  I love that release.    For this reason and lots of others, I could not wait to see the blockbuster, Bridesmaids last summer.  Everyone told me, "you are going to pee yourself. It is so FUNNY." And yes, I almost did pee myself, but I also cried through almost the entire last half of the movie.  I did not laugh so hard I cried, I just plain sobbed. I felt really sad watching the story of two friends come to terms with how their friendship was changing.  I was really surprised by my reaction after all the hype about how hilarious the movie was, but I knew why.  The brilliance of this movie was how life can be so hilarious and painful at the same time.    Yesterday, I was on a social networking site and one of the people I follow mentioned that she cried "proper tear...

Our little companion Cleo, came into our lives a little battered.  We found out about her because she was advertised on cable and was temporarily housed at a cat shelter.  The shelter, while nice for some, was not a happy place for her.  She was standing well away, as well away as was possible in such a crowded place, from the other cats.  She had a bald spot over one eye and she possessed a neediness that drove me crazy at the time. I was unemployed and new to a big city.  Cleo was a present- a present I wasn't sure I wanted initially.  As I moved about the apartment, she was always under foot.  Eventually, we started to let her dabble a little on the outside which she did with great gusto but always with a tentativeness that never made us fear that she would roam too far or cause any harm to other creatures.  Slowly but surely she assumed her own, distinct place in our lives. She moved across the country with us and that summer, as we hu...