Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
So I took a few photos of the Olson walk. Actually, I took a hundred photos of the Olson walk. And I liked about 28 of them enough to post here. Thank you to organizers, participators, Charles Olson for a full weekend--starting with Michael Rumaker reading at The Bookstore on Friday and ending with Gerrit Lansing reading at Fitz Henry Lane on Sunday not forgetting the panel of folks at MIT and the Ferrini film in between.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Outside
We got outside today. To talk about politics and do headstands. And isn't Lucy's cat the coolest? There's only one answer to this question. Answer carefully. Penalties for wrong answers.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Mum
Being a mother. Straightforward. And then not so.
Easy enough to understand when two children, Sunday morning, climb onto our bed, move in close for warmth. Easy to love the smoothness of their skin, their silky hair, their giggles and squeaky morning voices whispering, or yelling, "Happy Mother's Day," and "I love you."
Difficult. Thinking about a friend far away. In Korea. Separated from her children. Not knowing when she'll be close to them. And another friend, mother of two young boys, sick with cancer. Sick to think about the children living full time with the man who has been needlessly trying to gain custody of the children--three wives into it. Thinking about a mother's thoughts as she lies in a hospital bed, dying. The difficult--no--agonizing--aspects of being a mother for these women.
Often it isn't buttercups and happiness and moonshine. There are decisions to be made, hard ones. There is loss. There is the pain of fierce love.
But most of us wouldn't have it differently, the being a mother, being a parent. It balances, challenges, rewards us in ways that we cannot understand, sometimes, but for the feeling of it. The little things, then, beautiful and simple as being surprised by a small plant with pink flowers, a note card with colorful scribbles, a thank you. These gifts after a particularly long weekend of husband away with work, an achy, pregnant back, and rain. These gifts meaningful beyond my limited comprehension of the way things are and the way things should be.
Easy enough to understand when two children, Sunday morning, climb onto our bed, move in close for warmth. Easy to love the smoothness of their skin, their silky hair, their giggles and squeaky morning voices whispering, or yelling, "Happy Mother's Day," and "I love you."
Difficult. Thinking about a friend far away. In Korea. Separated from her children. Not knowing when she'll be close to them. And another friend, mother of two young boys, sick with cancer. Sick to think about the children living full time with the man who has been needlessly trying to gain custody of the children--three wives into it. Thinking about a mother's thoughts as she lies in a hospital bed, dying. The difficult--no--agonizing--aspects of being a mother for these women.
Often it isn't buttercups and happiness and moonshine. There are decisions to be made, hard ones. There is loss. There is the pain of fierce love.
But most of us wouldn't have it differently, the being a mother, being a parent. It balances, challenges, rewards us in ways that we cannot understand, sometimes, but for the feeling of it. The little things, then, beautiful and simple as being surprised by a small plant with pink flowers, a note card with colorful scribbles, a thank you. These gifts after a particularly long weekend of husband away with work, an achy, pregnant back, and rain. These gifts meaningful beyond my limited comprehension of the way things are and the way things should be.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Inventory
Have a cold but I'm eating strawberry icecream anyway. Something to bite into. Strawberries. Clothes don't fit. Elastic band waist thingy won't stay up, shirts too short to cover belly. A week since my grandmother died. Still wishing for goodbye that didn't come with seeing her tiny, lifeless person in those clothes, hearing hymns, listening to talk of the other side.
Thursday news. Friday flight. Saturday funeral. Spanish Fork burial. Second cousin, 10 children. Sunday knitting while others go to church. Monday flight. Week's worth of laundry and cleaning. Behind. Too tired to care. Wednesday glucose test. Three hours of needle poking, not eating, sugar drinking, waiting, knitting. Shaking then sleeping. Negative results. Thursday for bill paying and grocery shopping. Sun on Friday. Caught a cold, midnight, steam, shower with two year old. Awake eating ice, solving number puzzles. Orange goldfish crackers to plastic bowl, then to bed. Excavator under pillow. Go to sleep thinking about the doctor and his wife--not the baby and the photographer and those dreams.
Weaving ends in, then out. Tank top finished. On. Stripes beneath. She's out to buy flowers.
Laundry. Needing to do laundry. Laundry. Laundry. But writing instead.
Thursday news. Friday flight. Saturday funeral. Spanish Fork burial. Second cousin, 10 children. Sunday knitting while others go to church. Monday flight. Week's worth of laundry and cleaning. Behind. Too tired to care. Wednesday glucose test. Three hours of needle poking, not eating, sugar drinking, waiting, knitting. Shaking then sleeping. Negative results. Thursday for bill paying and grocery shopping. Sun on Friday. Caught a cold, midnight, steam, shower with two year old. Awake eating ice, solving number puzzles. Orange goldfish crackers to plastic bowl, then to bed. Excavator under pillow. Go to sleep thinking about the doctor and his wife--not the baby and the photographer and those dreams.
Weaving ends in, then out. Tank top finished. On. Stripes beneath. She's out to buy flowers.
Laundry. Needing to do laundry. Laundry. Laundry. But writing instead.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
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