Tonight's topic for car talk was death. Sure, death isn't exactly a common subject for a four year old, but Ari learned long ago that it's OK to ask questions - and that we'll answer any reasonable one. I've never once responded with "Ask me again when you're older" or any other delaying tactic. [Aside from the "I'll have to look that up." That one happens a lot.] So, tonight, we talk Death.
Ari says, in the context of death, "When God calls, you have to go." This sounded like a 'lesson' to me, so I asked "Did Omi tell you that?" Apparently she has; I had no argument with the concept so I was ready to move on. Ari wasn't. We moved into a conversation about how old or young a person is when God calls.
For some explanation of the upcoming breakdown, remember that I am exhausted. I'm so tired I can't remember all the important things while the small things are tripping me up completely. My reserves are shot. Enter: Death.
Ari says "Grandma Betty wasn't very old when God called her." My stomach immediately knotted. My mother is so peripheral to our existence that Ari called her 'Betty' rather than 'Debbie'. This is probably 'Right' and 'Good' - after all, it's probably not healthy for a four year old to have anything but a peripheral relation to a grandmother gone for 6 years before she was born.
I took a nice deep breath, and corrected her. Unfortunately, Ari wasn't through yet. In her peaceful, matter of fact, uncomplicated way, she asked me if I was a grown up when my mom died. How do you explain 'teenager' to a four year old? I said "I wasn't little, like you are, but I wasn't all grown up either."
For my fantastically thorough girl, this wasn't enough. How old was I, really? "Eighteen."
And again, in her peaceful, matter of fact, uncomplicated way, Ari says "Oh, well you were a grown up then. So you didn't need your mom anymore. So it's OK that God called her."
By this time, tears rolled freely down my face. I had missed my turn. And I was all out of answers. So I cried silently and let my mind wail "God! I needed her...."
It was part prayer, part resignation, part childishness, part desperation, part emptiness. It was love and hate and loneliness and frailty. It was grief, and rejoicing.
A few minutes later I hurriedly wiped my face off before Ari could see it. I prefer that her life remain a little less complicated for a little bit longer.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Spinning my wheels, or something
I'm not sure where to start. On anything. Everything is so disorganized and scattered that I find it incredibly difficult to find a beginning. The idea is personified in the living room, where stacks of things are laying around waiting to find their new home. Yet nothing can be put away yet. My thoughts feel like the dining room.
I still haven't figures out how to type on my new keyboard, but I think that longer fingernails are impeding my progress. And to think I worked so hard to stop biting my nails. That bad habit would come in handy these days.
The craving to smoke is back. No lectures needed, I won't light up. But oh how the feeling is there...
A Bright Red Roar
When I was a child, our home was heated by a giant wood burning furnace.
It was red, with a heavy black door, and took up almost the entire room.
We weren't supposed to open the door, but I could see the dancing flames as I watched the adults stoke the fire.
The heat caressed your face until it was so hot you had to blink - and then the door was closed again.
When I was 10, it did not seem unusual. Chopping, hauling, stacking wood was a matter of course. Part of
Winter.
I always knew Autumn was upon us; the days were shorter and the colors changed but the real test were the long drives to "the farm."
Some acreage, mostly wooded, with a few ponds and a ravine full of our large trash.
Refrigerators, tires, worn out furniture.
One year: our white dog who had grown deaf in old age and too aggressive with children.
Some days at the farm I managed to sneak away from the buzz of chainsaws to walk around with little purpose.
Once, I found a long black snake sunning itself along the shoreline.
Once, I walked until I came to a fence where I was greeted by a white and tan horse.
He blinked slowly at me until I wandered away again.
Autumn trips to the farm packed the truck full of wood to heat the house.
We packed until sunset and drove home in the dark, tired and sticky with tree sap.
The pickup would sit to the side, waiting for daylight, and then we would drive through the yard and begin unloading.
Cords of wood lined the fence and by the time we moved the bottom layers were sinking, rotting, into the ground.
The stacks were always crooked; the yard flooded with every heavy rain.
I still haven't figures out how to type on my new keyboard, but I think that longer fingernails are impeding my progress. And to think I worked so hard to stop biting my nails. That bad habit would come in handy these days.
The craving to smoke is back. No lectures needed, I won't light up. But oh how the feeling is there...
A Bright Red Roar
When I was a child, our home was heated by a giant wood burning furnace.
It was red, with a heavy black door, and took up almost the entire room.
We weren't supposed to open the door, but I could see the dancing flames as I watched the adults stoke the fire.
The heat caressed your face until it was so hot you had to blink - and then the door was closed again.
When I was 10, it did not seem unusual. Chopping, hauling, stacking wood was a matter of course. Part of
Winter.
I always knew Autumn was upon us; the days were shorter and the colors changed but the real test were the long drives to "the farm."
Some acreage, mostly wooded, with a few ponds and a ravine full of our large trash.
Refrigerators, tires, worn out furniture.
One year: our white dog who had grown deaf in old age and too aggressive with children.
Some days at the farm I managed to sneak away from the buzz of chainsaws to walk around with little purpose.
Once, I found a long black snake sunning itself along the shoreline.
Once, I walked until I came to a fence where I was greeted by a white and tan horse.
He blinked slowly at me until I wandered away again.
Autumn trips to the farm packed the truck full of wood to heat the house.
We packed until sunset and drove home in the dark, tired and sticky with tree sap.
The pickup would sit to the side, waiting for daylight, and then we would drive through the yard and begin unloading.
Cords of wood lined the fence and by the time we moved the bottom layers were sinking, rotting, into the ground.
The stacks were always crooked; the yard flooded with every heavy rain.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Polarized
The weather has been a bit harsh the last season and so the
Usual beautiful trees are dropping their leaves all at once,
Shrugging off the changes with a distinct air of self preservation.
I have pity for the trees; the people I know with a similar approach never
Know when to stop.
I currently err towards self sacrifice; my religious upbringing left me with
Such an appreciation for the martyr.
At the back of my mind lies the need to be adored.
Recognized.
I went walking the other evening, casually, hands
Tucked into my jacket pockets
While I shuffled through the crackling green/brown leaves.
A lesson lies there, on the sidewalk, but I can only hear the whisper of meaning
Over the sound of my passage.
The weather has been a bit harsh the last season and so the
Usual beautiful trees are dropping their leaves all at once,
Shrugging off the changes with a distinct air of self preservation.
I have pity for the trees; the people I know with a similar approach never
Know when to stop.
I currently err towards self sacrifice; my religious upbringing left me with
Such an appreciation for the martyr.
At the back of my mind lies the need to be adored.
Recognized.
I went walking the other evening, casually, hands
Tucked into my jacket pockets
While I shuffled through the crackling green/brown leaves.
A lesson lies there, on the sidewalk, but I can only hear the whisper of meaning
Over the sound of my passage.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Happy Birthday to me.
It's officially official: I've turned 30. It doesn't feel any different and I don't think I really care about the big 3-0. It was a great excuse to go out to dinner, though.
Things are moving along no matter how I feel about them. I suppose that's he very nature of things. I realize this doesn't make much sense. Perhaps I'm only typing in an effort to acclimate to my new keyboard.
Appearances
I stood before the mirror today and carefully brushed my hair straight.
The gray dulls the shine I was hoping for but I've
Long become accustomed to the sight.
My body feels all used up these days. My brain
Assures me that this feeling will fade over time.
I am not convinced.
I do not believe my own lies.
I cannot discern the truth, either. The confusion deftly weaves through
Certainty.
I am still shocked by the sight of it.
I find myself craving water but eating chocolate instead. One of these days, I might be able to make sense of that. Or this post. Who knows?
I hate my birthday. Reminds me of all those who have gone away. This is the best part; the end of the day when I am the furthest possible from the next birthday.
But thanks anyway to all of you for your thoughts and cool stuff. :)
Things are moving along no matter how I feel about them. I suppose that's he very nature of things. I realize this doesn't make much sense. Perhaps I'm only typing in an effort to acclimate to my new keyboard.
Appearances
I stood before the mirror today and carefully brushed my hair straight.
The gray dulls the shine I was hoping for but I've
Long become accustomed to the sight.
My body feels all used up these days. My brain
Assures me that this feeling will fade over time.
I am not convinced.
I do not believe my own lies.
I cannot discern the truth, either. The confusion deftly weaves through
Certainty.
I am still shocked by the sight of it.
I find myself craving water but eating chocolate instead. One of these days, I might be able to make sense of that. Or this post. Who knows?
I hate my birthday. Reminds me of all those who have gone away. This is the best part; the end of the day when I am the furthest possible from the next birthday.
But thanks anyway to all of you for your thoughts and cool stuff. :)
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