breadcrumbs
July 12, 2014 § 2 Comments
Enchanted by another’s recognition of self in an environmental place of belonging I have begun considering my own sense of provenance. A question of physical space of origin, an authentic self reflected in the boundaries of land and community, has tickled the corners of my curiosity begging a conviction of connectivity I cannot conjure.
My earliest years were stretched between my parents’ diverging paths, there are few places of permanence that I recall with a sense of self. Instead I find myself scavenging the landmarks of a life scattered, revisiting the past for an intimacy of sight, sound, or scent to guide me.
Some years ago I visited my grandparents’ home, a familiar hallmark of my childhood, anticipating tremors of recognition; internal resonance attuned to time and place. Moving through old rooms I remember looking for markers of belonging, messages of self coded in old fixtures and leftover structures. Instead I found physical boundaries simultaneously familiar and foreign for the contraction of emotions that accompanied the experience.
Last year I weighed an invitation of homecoming for a sentimental school reunion. In my mind I traversed a troubled path to a slumbering past, tempting demons with old ghosts. Unable to follow my thoughts through the hallways of a time lost to the traffic of new travelers, I danced around the corners of remembering unable to reconcile the enormity of memories with the disorienting passage of time.
In as much as I might tenant places of my past, I return to self in faded lines of old script. This is my home; the smell of pencil shavings and the crinkle of paper, wordplay and errant punctuation.
More than bricks and beams language binds me to a path marked by letters scattered like breadcrumbs. Even as the world around me changes, I find my way with words in much the same way one might navigate the sea by stars. My landmarks are guardians of old memories fixed in time and bound in shape by letters that map a lifetime; lifelines to pieces of self in a journey yet incomplete.
Still, this question of belonging lingers in doubt and I cannot help but wonder if there might come a time when I will trespass a moment and stumble into a familiar other that will inform a sense of knowing and create an unexpected homecoming.
to my son
July 11, 2014 § Leave a comment
You are my favorite antagonist; the most eloquent of laments outlining transgressions of comfort. Your language of inconvenience in suffering foolishness is matched only by the nonsensical comedy of errors that accompany exercises in common sense.
The most beautiful pieces of your awkward insistences are your emphatic statements of worldly knowing bound by experiences that most certainly are older than your years. You tether yourself tightly to a sense of security only to leap with messy abandon into a moment’s whim. You are a walking symphony of poorly harmonized instruments and the noise of your conviction and curiosity are a source of joyful amusement.
I hope you are always as confident in your beliefs as you are in your boundaries, but that you will invite opportunities to exercise greater humility and generosity that you might better enjoy the humor and wisdom of fallibility.
Love, Mom
to my daughter
July 9, 2014 § 2 Comments
Lessons occur in the most unexceptional moments. This afternoon your dentist paused over a tooth, exercising a moment’s uncertainty and demonstrating caution. Thoroughly and unceremoniously he gathered information and shared options in words that drifted over your head, but left a weight on your shoulders.
Standing just behind the dentist you looked away while turning toward our conversation. Appealing to your curious nature I invited you to explore your x-ray and asked the dentist to explain the image. You listened without interruption, but held your questions for the privacy of the hallway as we made our way home.
Beneath the darkest corners of your worries was a light filling in the shape of your fear. Questions create space for comfort, they lend reassurance; clearing the way for comprehension and greater care.
Sometimes fear and ignorance intimidate us into quiet acceptance or stubborn avoidance; we hurry through empty motions and suffocate our voice. Ask questions, gather information, and welcome choices. Never allow what you do not understand to inform your actions or your fear to silence an opportunity to learn.
Love, Mom
holding a memory
July 7, 2014 § 2 Comments
If I could hold time between my hands, tangling the past into a gesture of hope to carry close each day, I would keep this weekend near. Traveling to a place unbound by past experiences I found beautiful fragments of both children’s spirit waiting to be captured. Surrounded by ancient trees and nestled in thoughtful details, I curved inward and looked outward, seeing my children more clearly against the novelty of the unknown.
My daughter’s joy was saddled somewhere between horseback and nightfall. I loved the sight of her, dressed up and hair down, chasing fireflies unhindered by the suggestion of opulence in the cobblestone paths and ornate indulgences of her surroundings. She gathered details with the same attention she charted the path of light twinkling between shades of evening, drawing our eyes to delights unseen.
If my daughter’s joy twirled in the air like the tail of a kite weaving fluidly between moments, then her brother’s bliss was marked by the noisy clamoring of fireworks disrupting a quieter contentment and lending cheer.
My son’s joy was spontaneous, he leapt into celebrations enthusiastically absorbing each experience. The child I so often guard against the unknown and lead through social expectations charted a path of independence and community. I marveled as he welcomed each opportunity to engage with his surroundings, moving confidently through activities unhindered by doubt.
These gifts, recognizing beauty in overlooked details and embracing new experiences, are the keepsakes of character I most wish to keep present as I unpack the clutter of vacation. A treasure of perspective illuminating joy.
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.
scribblechic 