outdoor outtakes
June 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
Scattered beneath the serenity of my waterfall reflections (previous post) were moments of humor and humility…
My daughter and a young boy made immediate, temporary companions in play.
My son scaled a fallen tree with the clumsy efforts of one newly introduced to their limbs.
A shirtless man with an orange tan that seemed to mock the natural lighting of the pond begged for bottled water in the same breath he admitted to dumping his own. (Read: Left the tanning bed to litter.)
My proud, adventurous daughter with the balance of a tightrope walker fell, but bravely fought off tears.
My lanky son, with an unfortunate absence of balance as inherited from his mother, fell twice within the same breath but stood holding a new prized rock.
My patient, outdoor loving husband waded patiently with both children in cold water on slippery rocks while I perched on a beautiful slab of flat, dry rock trying to take pictures.
I was out navigated in the woods by a six-year-old.
skipping stones
June 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
Inspired by a friend’s photograph of a local forest preserve, I sought the picturesque backdrop of a small waterfall with my children tucked happily inside the frame of another’s photograph. I captured the requisite souvenir image of a happy family outing, but the smiles were inspired by moments of discovery that occurred between photographs.
Our first view of the waterfall, was of sunshine breaking through the trees and dancing over the water in harmony with the hum of rushing water. My children welcomed the moment with a hushed awe. I absorbed their broad smiles and fascination with joy.
They found their way first to the water’s edge, introducing themselves to the space like a new friend. Carefully and respectfully they felt their way further into the moment. Shoes cast aside they stepped into the water becoming a part of the space. Still and peaceful they absorbed the sounds while touching the rounded stones beneath the water’s surface. Small currents of water seemed to guide them towards the heart of the space and they stepped from stone to stone centering themselves. Here they settled like tiny explorers staking a claim to new land.
Skipping stones from stepping stones they paused in a moment of peace and savored a summer day.
skating by
June 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
Bedtime on a summer evening feels like a sad impossibility to a spirited six-year-old. Bath, books, and kisses signaled the end of another day. For me. The sound of our hall linen closet clicking open and closed combined with the frenzied thumping of little feet racing back to bed told me the evening was young. I called out a firm “good-night” from my side of the hallway, aware the stolen moments are the sweetest. Silence followed and so I tiptoed to my daughter’s doorway curious to discover if sleep or a secret adventure created the absence of sound. This is what I found…
Curled up on her bed, head bent in a determined endeavor, my daughter was tying wash clothes to her feet; one orange and one pink, ends flopping over like terry cloth bunny ears. Her efforts revealed she tipped her head determinedly and declared, I am making skates. Then to demonstrate the significance of the task at hand, she popped off her bed and skated around her room, hardwood floors welcoming the adventure, and I let it pass with a smile.
summer
June 11, 2011 § Leave a comment
Summer has swept my schedule clear, scattering commitments to the wind like a child casting dandelions into wishes. Each day unfolds lazily as I sort wishes into possibilities. I have lost the quiet moments saved for journaling my thoughts, but gained the company of my children. I have traded sack lunches for picnics and field trips for the neighborhood pool. Sand has filtered indoors smuggled deeply between barefoot toes and colorful beach towels hang like party banners casually strung across the deck. Popsicles punctuate family dinners and cool evenings create happy excuses to toast marshmallows by a fire. Even rainy days feel novel, umbrellas and flip flops funny companions. Late nights and sleepy mornings stretching summer into endless opportunities.
pyramid
June 5, 2011 § 1 Comment
As an infant my daughter would perform improvisational theater from the confined stage of her crib. I would marvel at the range of tones that infused her dramatic monologues, happily entertained by my daughter’s performances. Six and a half years later she still holds my attention captive in her tangled web of words.
When words replaced my daughter’s sounds I was delighted to accompany her on a journey into language. Yesterday was last night ago. Sit next to me was jumbled in to sit be next to me. The ideas were familiar enough to decode, but the presentation engaging for the subtle rearrangement. She was my Yoda and I absorbed her quandaries like ancient riddles. Amusing she was.
Happily, the tangled lines of daily sharings have been transcribed with the development of written language. As she matures into appropriate sentence structure and corrects occasional word choices, I smile at the endearing, lingering mispronunciation. Every sentence is passionately punctuated with a pyramid. Period.
twenty something
May 31, 2011 § 1 Comment
Crossing paths with an old friend washes away the years and makes memories feel nearer to new. Today I am counting the minutes until I am twenty something, falling into laughter and confidences with a close friend. No longer neighbors in the chaotic space of a college dorm, we are wives and mothers sharing new experiences.
Separated by miles rather than a hallway, we share pieces of our day in a series of scattered e-mails rather than through open thresholds in passing. Closing the distance between our homes, we gather with the same sense of belonging, finding our place in an endless conversation. At twenty something we were dreaming of a future. Research papers and finals have faded into book clubs and recipes. Boyfriends are now husbands and we are now mothers. We meet in the present with the strength and comfort of the past, as we find our way in to the future.
rain
May 25, 2011 § Leave a comment
The morning is cast in shades of gray. The sun rests hidden behind dark clouds, while the persistent percussion of heavy raindrops are punctuated with passionate exclamations of thunder drawing us further indoors. Water runs freely across the ground and life imitates art as green and gray dance beneath the water. Lulled by the muffled sounds and darkened skies, I am lost to sleepy daydreams.
coded
May 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son has his own soundtrack, a stream of sounds and commentary that accompany him as he moves through the world. Sitting beside him in the waiting room of a doctor’s office, he began making sound effects to accompany the portable game that held his attention tightly. I tuned out his familiar sounds and began reading a book. As we waited, distracted and absorbed in our own activities, a new sound joined the space. A young girl making a mechanical click deep in her throat settled into a seat nearby.
Next to me, my son was drawn out of his game curiously enamoured by the stranger’s sounds. His eyebrows drawn together and his brown eyes focused, he watched the girl before asking me simply, Why? The girl’s mother, kind and patient, explained her daughter was trying to communicate in a language of her own. I let the woman’s words guide my son, waiting for his response.
He watched the girl in silence, listening closely. Then, his eyes registered excitement. Moving so that he stood between the girl and her mother, my son sought a conversation in Morse Code. I would love to say they chatted, perhaps they did. Later, we parted ways, my son said good-bye and the girl offered her response. I held the moment close and gave thanks for the kindness of children and the simple language of friendship.
the end
May 21, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am perpetually early, in fear of running late. I weather storms with feverish uncertainty until the clock safely marks the end of an ambiguously computed, broadcast window of warning. Imagine my discomfort at overlooking the End of the World.
Like stages of grief I can mark the span of time from learning to worrying. It began with Denial. It cannot be real. Seriously, could I see a reference. I am going to need a little more information. I believe I panicked a couple of Ends ago, so I think I’ll just sit this one out.
Anger then argued with Denial. I miss out on everything, dammit. I would have spent my anticipated last days differently. Tied up a few loose ends. Maybe had a little fun. This is perfect. It’s the End of the World and I am spending it on an Elementary school project and hosting difficult house guests.
I found relief in Bargaining. Here’s what I’ll do. I can’t cancel my plans and we should really finish up this project for my son’s class (just in case). So, I’ll allow myself small indulgences. Maybe a donut. I’m a simple girl.
I am also a bit of an Optimist, so I set aside Depression as a personal choice and embraced Acceptance. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.
selves
May 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Before my mother moved away, she left me a box of miscellaneous mementos she had safely stowed away in her basement crawl space. As so often happens, I collected the materials and shelved them in my own home for another day. The box followed us, unmarked and overlooked, into our second home. On a summer day, as we shuffled boxes and bins looking for something and valiantly attempting to make sense of the chaotic contents of our garage, I found pieces of my past in my mother’s castaway clutter.
My daughter, entranced by the random collection accompanied me on my journey through old pictures, assignments, yearbooks, and keepsakes. I introduced my daughter to new chapters of an old story. Among the photographs was an overly posed, professional picture of two teenagers standing close, their awkwardness and affection at once innocent and endearing, familiar and foreign.
At dinner that evening, my daughter’s enthusiasm over her day’s discoveries exclaimed, Mommy has a boyfriend! I smiled at her choice of tense, amused and enchanted that she so naturally merges moments from the past with the present. It is a special gift of time and I am endeared by my daughter’s wish to know each of us, as individuals, among stories and photographs. We introduce her to our selves and she loves us all completely.
