An early morning walk. The momentum of women's voices, gathering strength and quietly accelerating down the hill.
An evening of great beauty on the ocean. Floating on the surface of the soft water like an otter on a waterbed, listening to the bell buoy chime.
A little over two weeks ago we had a kitchen fire. It was minor as far as fires go; our neighbors put it out heroically before the fire fighters even arrived. What a learning experience and blessing and inconvenience. We had a safe place to stay in the interim and were held kindly in our moment of chaos. The smoke from the fire and chemicals from the extinguisher are gone, the walls washed, furniture cleaned.
A lot happened during those two weeks. I misplaced my little notebook where I write ideas and quotes and goals and stories. I started to learn to surf. I attended a family reunion. My children started first and fourth grade. My daughter turned nine. I finished one book and started another. We rescued a chrysalis and the kids watched the monarch within dry its wings on a sunflower and go out into the sun. I bought a new bathing suit during an end-of-season sale, a bikini; I haven't worn a bikini since my honeymoon eleven years ago. We took our long-planned family trip to a lake up north, and I kayaked over to a little island just like the one in Margaret Wise Brown's book of the same name. My son lost another tooth. I paid my taxes and registered the car and picked up my transfer station sticker. I've practiced setting boundaries and being vulnerable. Big things and little things, concrete and intangible.
Because of all this change, I have not focused as much on my worries and fears for my children. I think that's a good thing. It's a small amount of letting go.
"If you think giving your whole life to making the boy happy is going to make him happy you ain't so smart as I took you for. You go trying to live somebody else's life for them." So Big by Edna Ferber
I don't want to hide behind my caregiving. I don't want to postpone my life in a futile attempt to make someone else's perfect; no one appreciates a martyr. Again that balance that I have not yet figured out: want vs responsibility. I feel awakened. I am remembering what I used to feel when I'd go hiking in my twenties: a deep connectedness with nature, a participation in the earth and in life that is thrilling and joyful and exciting and peaceful.
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