Whit turned ten in January.
We had heroic, apocalyptic snow in Boston. That coincided with my annual crazy month at work in a way that made February feel totally separate from real life.
We went to Paris with my parents and my children in March. I love traveling with both my parents and Grace and Whit, and seeing them together on the street where I lived as a small child was indescribably powerful.
My favorite posts:
Her wounds came from the same source as her power
The increasing vulnerability of right now
A blur of otherworldly white
Parenting a tween: an exercise in presence
My favorite quote:
If we want to know what it felt like to be alive at any given moment in the long odyssey of the race, it is to poetry we must turn. The moment is dear to us, precisely because it is so fugitive, and it is somewhat of a paradox that poets should spend a lifetime hunting for the magic that will make the moment stay. Art is that chalice into which we pour the wine of transcendence. What is imagination but a reflection of our yearning to belong to eternity as well as to time?
– Stanley Kunitz
“What is imagination but a reflection of our yearning to belong to eternity as well as to time?”
Ain’t that the truth!
It’s amazing how much happens every few months. Really.
And I love that quote.
I love your yearly reflections. I am feeling ragged inside and out as well and it’s so nice to have kinship during the tedium and comfort of the ordinary work in daily life.