beneath a canopy
July 3, 2014 § 6 Comments
I am under summer’s spell; content beneath a canopy of daydreams, my head is in the clouds. Early mornings unmarred by calendar commitments and intentionally choreographed adventures blur the hours between sunlight and starlight. Minutes obscured in the pages of a book and evenings enchanted by fireflies; time borrowed and stolen in a debt of gratitude for the simple pleasures of days well lived.
wonder in waiting
June 26, 2014 § 2 Comments
So much life occurs in empty moments of waiting. We fill the time between beginnings with choices that provide distractions and illuminate self. I watched my children navigating the airport yesterday and marveled at the differences between each child and the memories trapped in the congested busyness of familiar spaces.
My son turned inward from the noise and movement of our surroundings. He cocooned into stillness, preserving his solitude. His sister moved into his shadow, challenging his stagnancy. Nose and forehead pressed against the glass she watched the progress of the workers on the ground. Her stillness seemed to radiate movement, waves of curiosity and attentiveness merging with the current of strangers that milled around.
At first I worried that my son had hardened against the experience of traveling. My memory of his toddler form peeking on tiptoe through the same glass, enthusiastic tones of awe for the caravan of luggage that would caterpillar between metal birds was in sharp contrast to the curve of his torso as he bent into his reading. There was silence where once he created introductions and discovered friendship in the face of other children, sorting his surroundings and filling the empty chairs around him with questions.
It wasn’t until we settled ourselves into seats aboard our plane that I realized my son had not lost his eagerness to peer through the window or chase friendships; he merely gave up a place near the window to sit on the perimeter of old experiences. He still engages his neighbor across the aisle and creates his own distractions, but he has matured into an experience of expected restraint. It isn’t that his sister’s enthusiasm exaggerates his acquiescence, but rather mirrors the gift of his experience.
My daughter learned to look through the window by looking first to her brother. The evolution of each child’s experiences making me more conscious of how I assign placement within expectations and the importance of creating windows.
lost time
June 24, 2014 § 2 Comments
I lost track of time, misplaced minutes and mismanaged goodbyes. Tonight I realized that tomorrow my children and I return home. Somewhere in the sleepy distractions of leisurely summer days unburdened by routine I misjudged the day. We made no plans that must be undone, but I find myself lonely for minutes that were never mine. An accident of accounting has made us more attentive to the hour as we linger a little later over good night, all too aware that good morning will bring goodbye.
broken thoughts
June 19, 2014 § 10 Comments
In quiet moments I have begun sifting through old sentiments, ideas scribbled in a hurried hand; fragments of self in broken thoughts. Unfinished and almost forgotten, sentimental and reflective, they are time capsules of fleeting moments and curious musings.
Hesitant to discard them and uncertain where to keep them, I am sweeping beloved words into the margins of my thoughts; a wistful wreckage of wonderings.
making magic
June 17, 2014 § 11 Comments
My mother is tempted daily to cast a spell over our summer vacation, to create magic that compensates for the distance that spans our time apart. It is an act of love, but an unnecessary extravagance. I watch both children happy to bask in her attention and content to explore familiar corners of her home. I am at once my children’s mother, but also a child in the presence of my mother and the company of memories.
Here my children are sun-kissed and salty from water-logged play days. They rest against my mother’s canine companion and conspire in make-believe. They sleep stretched against the darkness scavenging each evening for stolen moments and wake eager to claim the morning. They manipulate the mundane into magic and I marvel at the memories they collect like the broken pieces of old toys crafted into new adventures.
here & there
June 15, 2014 § 2 Comments
Traveling inspires a meditative meandering, I dwell in questions between destinations; confined to a space of physical immobility my mind wanders as I soar in place. I wonder at the story we leave in our absence, the signs of life that linger between the items we take and the pieces we leave.
For these moments, sitting between both children, I disappear among their quiet distractions. Suspended in the air we linger in possibility unrestricted by the routines of our day. I am both bound and free, neither here nor there.
taking & leaving
June 13, 2014 § Leave a comment
Packing might be my most dreaded task. A childhood of transporting belongings between my parents’ homes has left me resistant to the responsibility of sorting items of need into expectations of want. I comb through clothing and toiletries with a lingering doubt, unnerved by the unpredictability of time away from the convenience of home.
Once procrastination and panic foster a false momentum I then become distracted by the overlooked, unused objects lingering in the shadows of my closest. I sift through clothes unworn and others once beautiful, over-washed favorites and ill-fitting memories. I pack those items I will reach for blindly, well-worn and tired then add one or two still tethered to tags.
I move similarly through other corners of our home, my greatest accessories books and paper. This act of seeking and sorting underlying a wealth of more in a need for less.
to my daughter
June 11, 2014 § 16 Comments
I’m sorry. When you walked out of school eager to leave I thought you were anxious for summer to begin. I didn’t realize you were hiding disappointment beneath polite resistance as I quickly captured photographs with friends and teachers. We came home to the company of friends and later left to meet with more friends. You bounced between cheerful distractions quietly and I misread your stillness for contentment. It wasn’t until we were headed home from dinner beneath the cover of dark skies and rain that you casually listed the day’s disappointments.
I wish there were do-overs for mommies. Instead of stealing pictures to mark the moment I might have given you space to speak out so that I might pull a teacher aside to ask questions about the transgressions. Maybe then I would have different words.
Some days disappointment settles on our perspective like a wet blanket blocking all the light and stealing our warmth. We feel a harm in the most tender places of our own insecurities and the injustice of some disappointments undermines our faith in assumptions of goodness. I can tell you life isn’t fair and that mommies are powerless to right some wrongs, but those words are hollow to my own ears.
Instead I gave you imperfect words of honesty. I mirrored your disappointment and didn’t contrive to create excuses. Then I gathered my thoughts and named my confusion and your hurt owning the moment in a letter to an educator asking not for apologies but insight.
In one last impulse I collected you into a hug and explained I couldn’t take back the harm or right a wrong, but I could speak honestly of your worth and not hide behind acceptance. Grace does not demand silence or beg invisibility, it requires strength of self.
I hope one day when you look back at the pictures that mark this moment you remember standing tall in your disappointment. The self-worth that pulled your shoulders back and bent your lips into a smile despite the weight on your heart are evidence of grace.
Love, Mom
the play of learning
June 3, 2014 § 6 Comments
On sunny days we are accounting for snow days, but the work of learning has passed. Grade books are closed and text books returned, while attendance requires a presence of mind and body. Eyes cast to the windows and minds quietly tolling the lingering minutes of each day I find classrooms returning to play for an opportunity to control the distractions of the day.
These are the sweet days between homework and summer; we internally exhale relief for an end to testing and standards while breathing in anticipation of summer’s promise. No longer bound by the rules of curriculum, there is an unofficial standard of play. Teachers are creating excuses to absorb time and wrestle attention from daydreams least the students fall into disorder.
While some bemoan lost days of academia, I am hoping our teachers think outside the limits of formal expectations and embrace lessons in play. Learning in the context of joy and curiosity without the weight of grading expressions of knowledge. Today I am wishing both my children and their teachers time to play at learning.
measure of joy
June 1, 2014 § 5 Comments
I am cautious in my exuberance. Academic accomplishments are celebrated with words of appreciation rather than gatherings or gifts. I try to center my attention on the progress of effort over accomplishment; careful not to foster an expectation of grandeur in my children’s minds. There have been so many moments of carefully contrived simplicity that I have begun to wonder if I am undermining the magic of more.
Recently I caught myself rebuffing the formal activities thoughtfully coordinated by my son’s middle school to celebrate graduation; a term I hold with reverence as an accomplishment better reserved for high school and college. The energy I exerted pushing against the tide of anticipation was exhausting and contradictory to the spirit with which I embrace spontaneous moments of celebration for everyday measures of joy.
I was tallying gestures of celebration in place of gratitude for countless experiences that lent immeasurable growth. These past three years have been substantial and this ending leaves a legacy of friendship and accomplishment far greater than academic markers. We have navigated crises with strangers who became friends and we have grown collectively into readiness for new challenges.
I cannot celebrate friendship so mildly for there is no greater gift. As we move through the celebration and ceremony of the coming week I am embracing with unmeasured exuberance the quiet enduring blessing of our community of friends and this chapter in our story. More words of thanks, more excuses to gather in celebration, more moments of appreciation for gifts that appear in our lives wrapped in everyday experiences.
