Month: June 2011

10 Characters in Search of an Author (apologies to Pirandello)

A lighthearted meme for Friday:

1. Rockstar Name (first pet, current car): Caliban Subaru

2. Gangsta Name (fave ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe): Cake Batter Choo

3. Native American Name (fave color, fave animal): Orange Elephant

4. Superhero Name (2nd fave color, fave drink): Blue Sauv Rocks

5. Nascar Name (first names of your grandfathers): Lawrence Henry

6. Stripper Name (name of your fave scent/perfume, fave candy): Laundry Red Licorice

7. TV Weather Anchor Name (5th grade teacher’s last name, major city that starts with same letter): Swain Sewanee

8. Spy Name (fave season/holiday, flower): Spring Peony

9. Cartoon Name (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now): Pear Tank Top

10. Hippie Name (what you ate for breakfast, favorite tree): Coffee Birch

Please share yours!?

Keeping my eyes open

This is how life is right now. Gossamer, luminous, delicate.  I am as swollen and as fragile as that bubble.  If you look closely you can see my reflection on its surface, but I feel as though I’m also contained within it: floating above the world, looking down, my perch about to vanish at any moment.

The beauty of any given moment is as evanescent as it is startling.  It’s all so extraordinary, and short-lived, and stunning, that sometimes I feel like just hiding in the house rather than taking it in.  Because this bubble burst moments after I took the picture of it, and what had been there, a floating, hovering embodiment of gorgeousness, was just as quickly, and as completely, gone.

Sometimes the truth of the grandeur of my everyday life flashes in front of me, as beautiful as this bubble or as bright as phosopherescence, and as fleeting. Like the sheer shimmer of a soap bubble, the unexpected, bright swirls of glowing light in a night sea, the knowledge of life’s holiness leaves an imprint on the back of my eyelids, a reminder of something witnessed, something important from a place beyond rational thought.

The bubbles – the moments, with their sudden, shining beauty, and their abrupt, final end – break my heart.  Today I’m walking around with a broken heart.  There is so much beauty and so much sorrow.  So much grandeur and so much terror.  But I’m learning to keep my eyes open for the bubbles, even when what I see makes them sting.  At least there’s that.

Carwash

I was very excited about my stay-in-the-dorms plan for Princeton reunions.  And it turned out to be great, in many ways.  Very convenient, we had our own bathroom (super bonus), and the kids thought it was a huge adventure.  The downside?  We were literally right over the dance floor, which was rocking until well after 2:00 am.  And the light streamed in early (see: aforementioned lack of biblical flooding) so they were up at 6:00.  For children who usually get 12 hours of sleep, 4 was a big difference.  This is all a long way of saying we drove home on Saturday night after the post-P Rade celebrations rather than spending the night.  Whit fell asleep before we hit route 1 and slept until 10am on Sunday.

And then Matt went to the office for most of the day on Sunday and Monday.  What to do with a holiday weekend and no plans?  I like these unscheduled days, but had not thought ahead to, perhaps, sign us up for trapeze.  It was very hot – enough that Whit exclaimed, “I feel like we are still in New Jersey!” when we went outside.  So, after some errands, we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean.  This was my first installment of the series, I confess, and my primary reaction is who knew mermaids were so terrifying?  Yikes.

We got home and the kids had punched the 3D lenses out of their glasses.  Grace has not taken them off since.  The big entertainment before dinner?  Washing the car.  And you would think these two went back to Disney for the utter joy that they felt.  I cooked dinner, occasionally drifting to the front windows to watch them, and they sprayed each other and the car, scrubbed with kitchen sponges, and giggled. They were soaked and happy when I finally asked them to come in, 45 minutes later.

One of my clear priorities as a parent is that my children are easily delighted.  I am proudest of myself as a parent – and of them – in the surprising, unexpected moments of wonder.  And this was one.