nostalgia

Last lunch


Packed Grace’s very last kindergarten lunch tonight. Wow. She requested a ham, turkey, and (vegan) cheese sandwich and some fruit. I made the sandwich, using my most-treasured parenting secret weapon to make it special (run, don’t walk, to buy a large heart-shaped cookie cutter. I use it almost daily), cut up an apple, put in some pretzels and a juice box. Then I wrote a note. And fought my tears.

Tomorrow’s kindergarten “open house” is a graduation of sorts. Gulp. How did we get here? She was just born. Where’s the pause button?

Two islands

Picture from France, my guess is that Hilary is 4 or 5 and I am 6 or 7.

One of my very favorite stories about Mum is from my grade school years at BB&N. It so perfectly sums up the creative, loving, generous, no-nonsense mother she was – and absolutely encapsulates the kind of parent I aspire to be.

One day right after spring break I came home from school dismayed. Mum asked me what was wrong.

“I feel sad. Lots of the other kids went to the islands for vacation. Why didn’t I get to go to the islands?”

“Lindsey, aren’t you the luckiest girl – you got to go to two islands for vacation!”

“I did?” my surprise was evident.

“Yes, you did. Rhode Island and Long Island.” I had gone to visit my maternal grandparents in Rhode Island and my paternal grandparents on Long Island. And I was absolutely chuffed at her answer, I remember feeling proud and satisfied.

What is luckier than a girl who gets to spend her vacation with her four living, loving grandparents?

And Grace’s vacation looms. She is going to Delaware with Nana to visit Hilary, Hannah, Terence, and Margaret, and then she is going to Florida with Grandma and Grandpa. Pretty lucky girl, I think!

Feathered Pipe


I listened to some old Madonna from the Ray of Light days today while running (and never fear, those of you tracking my terrible taste in music: Supertramp, Tina Turner, and Jesus Christ Superstar were rocking my world too). Reminded me of the years-ago yoga trip to Feathered Pipe Ranch in August 2000. It was an extraordinary week – the photo above didn’t survive very well but I still recall in my mind the view from the studio as I held pose after pose. We were a small group, and Baron and Rolf were pre-celebrity (at least what they are now) and were very much a part of the week. There were hours and hours of yoga – incredible sweat – long holds and lots of tears. We walked in the Montana hills every morning and ate surpisingly wonderful food. I stayed in a yurt and frequently walked out in the morning to see quiet deer wandering around. I’ve not had success with meditation, generally, but I felt closer to stillness this week than I have at almost any other time. I also felt like my body had been run over by a truck – I remember on day 3 that every single inch of me ached; even child’s pose hurt like hell.