Last weekend on the ferry on our way home from Shelter Island. I might do a little of this – napping, resting, closing my eyes – over the next month.
Like I did last year, I plan to take August off from blogging. I plan to spend the month living the vast design, and really paying attention to it, and I look forward to returning in September! I hope you will be here.
My love of random questionnaires and of the minutiae of our lives is well-documented. I do think that it’s in the tiny stuff that we can see glimpses of the entire, shimmering whole of life. I also think that random details are just plain fun.
I found the Goop questionnaire recently and thought I’d close out July with my answers to the (lightly edited) questions.
Go-to weeknight recipe?
Have been toying with a whole post about this, actually. We have some family favorites that include pulled chicken sandwiches, Asian stir-fry chicken with rice, maple candy pork chops, fish tacos.
First job?
Management consulting.
Next job?
I hope, writer.
Mentor?
My high school English teacher, Mr. Valhouli. A couple of people in executive search I won’t name. My first friend from my first job, A.A.G.
Hometown?
Cambridge, Massachusetts
What would you put on your neon sign?
Be here now. Same thing I’d put on my tattoo, if I had one.
Wouldn’t leave home without?
Something to read. Lip balm. A hair tie. My phone.
Essential beauty products?
Lip balm. Moisturizer. Mascara.
Wouldn’t fly without?
Something to read. Lip balm (are you sensing a theme?). A sweater.
Things you buy in bulk?
Perrier. Toilet paper. Frozen waffles.
Favorite book?
Ooh. This is hard. Novels: The English Patient, Light Years, Gilead. Poetry: anything by Mary Oliver, Wendell Berry, Adrienne Rich, Stanley Kunitz. Memoirs: Devotion, The Gift of an Ordinary Day
First celebrity crush?
Hmmm … an 80s rock star maybe. Peter Cetera?
Favorite movie?
Stealing Home. It’s sad that that’s all I can come up with, I recognize that. Movies are a real weakness in my cultural vocabulary. As is television.
People on speed dial?
My mother, my husband, my two or three BFFs with whom I speak on the phone.
Preferred form of exercise?
Running and yoga.
Drink of choice?
Coffee. Water. Occasionally, wine (red, white, or pink depending on the mood and occasion).
Proudest moment?
The births of my two children.
Perfect Sunday afternoon?
A walk around the neighborhood, dinner at the dining room table, and reading in bed with a child on each side of me.
I’d love if you wanted to do this questionnaire and share your answers! More generally, are you as fascinated as I by the random detail, by the mundane minutiae, by the ways light catches on the tiniest corners of a life and seems to, momentarily, illuminate it?
A short-lived smile, by the flower garden next to her cabin. Cosmos always remind me powerfully of my maternal grandmother, Nana, and given the proximity of them to Grace’s cabin, I like to think she’s watching over her great-granddaughter at camp.
Right before the final goodbye. Right before I took this, he looked at me and said “after this you are leaving, really?” nervously. I nodded, and we took the photograph. I don’t know if you can see his apprehension in his eyes.
Last Thursday we dropped Grace and Whit at camp for 3.5 weeks. This is her 5th summer and his 3rd. I know, I know, I’m a broken record, but seriously? It feels like we just took her for her first summer a week ago, so how is this possible? As usual, I drove away in tears, and as usual, my heart was heavy for days after leaving them at camp. Not because I doubt they’ll have fun, not because I worry about their safety or joy while away from me. Not at all because of other of those. Not even specifically because I’ll miss them, though I will.
But, mostly, the sorrow is due to the realization that I am already here, already at this point teetering on the edge of something very new and very scary, already at the day that many more years with children at home flutter behind me, like prayer flags in the wind, than do ahead of me.
Grace was weepy at drop off. Truthfully, it was the hardest camp goodbye yet. Well, maybe not harder than the first time, when she was 8. But I was a bit taken aback by how sad she was, and by how hard it was to walk away. Part of that was because we were early and many of her friends hadn’t arrived yet. Part of it was just because she seemed to be in a cabin without counselors she knew. And part of it is probably just because of this particular moment in life, which is marked by closeness and intimacy which both makes me anxious (should I worry?) and glad (I am grateful for our bond).
Within 24 hours I had decided, though, that it’s all fine. Maybe it is better this way. Perhaps the benefit of camp is not in spite of her finding it challenging this year but because of it. That was quite a flip of attitude for me and it felt like something heavy had been lifted. Yes. Precisely this: the discomfort may be what makes it so valuable. The uneasiness and tears speak to the growth.
On Tuesday night before we left, I tucked Whit in. He was quiet and visibly wistful. I flicked the light off and climbed into his narrow bed next to him and whispered, “It’s almost time for camp. How do you feel about that? Excited? Sad?” He swallowed and, staring up at the slats of the bunk above him, said quietly, “Both.” I looked at his profile in the faint glow of the Bruins zamboni night light Grace gave him for Christmas, and it occurred to me that’s how I feel about camp too. And, actually, it’s how I feel about every new vista of this parenting journey. It’s how I feel about life itself: excited and sad at the same time.
Excited and sad at the same time. Always. The goodbyes and the hellos keep coming fast and furious, inextricably wound together.
Previous posts about camp: 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014
Our hermitage is the act of living with attention in the midst of things: amid the rhythms of work and love, the bath with the child, the endlessly growing paperwork, the ever-present likelihood of war, the necessity for taking action to help the world. For us, a good spiritual life is permeable and robust. It faces things squarely, knowing the smallest moments are all we have, and that even the smallest moment is full of happiness…
What we need, and what we love, what consoles us and what redeems us, is here each moment, already within us. It waits for us to recognize its presence. We have only to give ourselves up to it, and our one life, and all life, welcomes us into its arms.
~ John Tarrant
Yet another glorious quote that I found on A First Sip. Have I convinced you yet that you need to be reading this blog?
Have Kids, Will Travel – this post by Annie Flavin is full of beautiful photographs and deep truths. She has younger children than I do, but has the same approach to life: choosing the top right quadrant, where both adventure and exhaustion live. Yes, yes, and yes. What did we do before them? I ask myself that all the time.
This is 35 – As you know I love “this is X” posts, and some of my favorite writing has been structured that way. This post by Dina Relles on Commonplace brought tears to my eyes. “Thirty-five is facing the frailty of family and friends, coming to terms with the truism that every day on this earth is a gift. Thirty-five is not the end of the story.”
Tinker Crate – I have mentioned this subscription service before, but Whit continues to passionately adore his monthly boxes that contain a science-related project and I wanted to reiterate how much we love it. Just this morning I found him in his room working on a project. There are other services for younger kids or those interested in other things. Highly recommended. A great gift idea!
I’ve been reading a lot of very light novels lately, and nothing I feel merits a mention specifically here, to be honest. For some reason, that’s what my heart seeks right now: lightness. After publicly acknowledging that this had been a difficult first half of the year, I’m easing into the second half with optimism and as much ease as my not-very-easy personality can muster.
It’s worth noting that some of my favorite writers have books coming out this fall, which I am eagerly anticipating. I’m specifically thinking of Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear
I’m writing postcards and letters to camp (the children go tomorrow, and I ache already, if I’m being frank, which I always am).
What are you reading, listening to, thinking about, and anticipating these days?
I write these Things I Love posts approximately monthly. You can find them all here.