Yesterday’s shootings in CT have left me chilled, heartsick, and quiet. Breaking the silence to share a few things that I think we’ve lost as a nation, beyond the tragedy of the lives that were taken, a pool of grief and sorrow that I can’t begin to fathom. I only feel it’s slippery edges.
We’ve lost our ability to hope, and most of our trust. We grab at it in bits and pieces, but the fabric has become threadbare and full of gaping wounds. We hope that the government will fix it, or laws will curb it, but we look for somewhere to put the blame. We’ve lost the ability to filter our inputs, both physical and emotional, and it’s suffocating us. We’ve lost sight of forgiveness. We’ve lost our ability to look at wrongs without thinking of revenge and payback. We’ve stopped assuming personal responsibility for our lives. We’ve lost the ability to lift each other up, day after day, without a tragedy to wake us up, and that briefly. Why does it take a Sandy or a Newtown to make us look each other in the eye, and hold each other’s fragile hearts? Without love, we are empty. Without hope, we are lost. Without faith, we have no vision.
The alarm went off at 4:30 this morning, and as usual it was a brutal up-rising … car to warm up, food and sundries to throw at M as he packed his bag, jackets to find, and warm sleepy boys to drag out of bed and into the car. It’s Monday, and that means time to send Dad back into the city for the week. He has to catch at train at 6am to get into Manhattan for 9am, and the drive to the station is about 40 minutes. By the time he’d run back into the house for his phone and charger, we got on the road, crept over the bridge, and raced down hwy 97 entirely too fast (IMHO) for the fog and dark and lurking deer. I munched cold granola and started to fall asleep, trying not to wake up completely but knowing it was a losing battle.
The days march, the apartment echoes, the tears well up. It’s my last week in Brooklyn, and I’m alternately excited and devastated. Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when it’s a place you feel so incredibly at home in.
Eugene, my neighbor of 9 years, turned 92 last week. He’s the oldest of the old-timers around here, and I’m sad to say I didn’t really meet him until about 18 months ago. You see, he’s lived in the house next door for over 70 years, and in this neighborhood his entire life, and he’s not forgotten a thing. I can’t really think about the 7 years I didn’t know him, and just enjoy every minute I get to sit on his porch and listen to his stories. He has no end of them, that’s for sure.
There’s no question that summer is here, at least in attitudes and clothing choices. Pools aren’t open yet, but layers have been shed, windows are open, and everyone is lingering outside later and later. I’m feeling the pressure of a chaotic series of trips and complicated schedules, trying to finish up schooling and get everyone and everything organized so that we can leave on time. Some days I think my head is rolling around under the bed collecting dust bunnies, and other days I’m yelling at the boys to stop making weird noises and find something to do already!
The sun was warm, the company good, the wine perfectly sweet. Soaking up family … both my own, and my own. Where I come from, and what we’re creating. Heritage, progeny. Talk of family trees and ancestors, mixed with the barefoot patter of my boys as they hunted for eggs.
Here we are, another Friday, and I’ve not posted all week. Can’t say why really. Some of the things running through my head though, for your random pleasure …
Am I hitting the edges of menopause, God help me, and if so am I really really done having kids? Hm? Really? Not 100% sure, but close, still that shred of doubt makes me wonder if and when I’ll regret it.
If there’s anything consistent about this blog, it’s that I’m not consistent. I’m up and down and verbose and silent, sometimes chipper and often wry and deprecating and full of wishes and hopes and aches and pains. There is it.
The past two weeks have been quiet achey ones. I’m not sure why, but have been letting it roll over me. Lack of energy has been the theme, with an undercurrent of pms, some reflection, and a lot of distraction with obsessive show watching, late-night reading, and delightful new indie-music listening. Kind of hunkering down and letting the quietness pervade.
If you’ve wandered the web today, you likely came across some black-out sites. Self-censored in protest of the SOPA and PIPA legislation currently before the US congress, which will end up allowing censorship of the web (among other things) if it goes through. Please check it out, and do something if you can.
I saw Pina last night, a 3D movie about the choreographer Pina Bausch. I knew nothing about her prior to going, other than seeing the trailer several times. It was beautiful, full of raw emotional dance that was almost painful to watch. I loved it, but was a bit unsettled by it.
I’ve started to see a trend in the holiday season, and this year is proving no exception. You know the whole “holiday spirit” thing, and how people are supposedly friendlier and cheerier in general during the month of December? In the last few weeks I’ve had experiences on the bus, the subway, and in the post office, that make me doubt the overall pervasiveness of this fairy dusting of cheer. Sure it’s there for many, and real, but I’m seeing the other side of things too.
I love it. I love the cooler weather, long sleeves, crunchy walks, and all the gorgeous colors of the Northeast. It’s my favorite time of year. The crazy weather has meant that some days we’re outside a lot, and other days we’re huddled at home with tea and hot chocolate. The coats are out, the mittens dropped everywhere, but thankfully without the muddy wet boots so far :).
I read a SteadyMom post a couple weeks ago and the simple point was that her goal for each day was peace. Simply peace. It was more important than accomplishing lots of things, or making fancy meals, she wanted the motive behind the day’s choices to be a desire for peace.
To be honest, I first sniffed at it a bit because I thought about all the reasons why that’s not possible.
I’ve been trying to post this all week, but I just haven’t found the time and energy in the same span of quiet time. Giving it a try on Friday night finally!
Having the boys gone for two weeks was an amazing experience. Like I mentioned before, the week alone with my husband was great. I worked a LOT and we had some good downtime together also. Getting away for 5 days in FL the second week was utter bliss. I truly disconnected once I got away from home, away from all the distractions of coulds and shoulds and maybes that surround me here, whether my kids are home or not. Vacation is a different story.