Sunday in CinCity

-




Some wadded up clump of denial has washed clear of my psyche and I am finally peaceful with the fact that my children are not ever going to use the set of encyclopedias, old Life magazines, multiple maps of the world, books about the presidents, How Things Work, and The Human Body that I thought they might someday need and use for a report. It is an internet world of information for this generation. So, I am tossing and bagging and schlepping, and otherwise clearing spaces for new adventures. What a fun ride it was with little ones in the house.

It helps that some items can be moved up to our place on the lake. Treasure Quest, James Herriot's Treasury for Children, and Wind in the Willows. The Friends Trivia Game. What I may lack in denial I more than make up for in immaturity.

Boy Blowing Bubbles

By Deborah Pope



They erupt
with the suddenness
and ease of his laughter,
rising like the high,
wobbly syllables
of his singing.
Shimmering, drifting,
perfect in their roundness
as planets in a book,
they issue forth
from his lips
where he breathes
through the wand
like a birthday candle
he is wishing on.
Continuously,
they ride away
in the curve of leaves,
scoop of sky,
rolling without wind
through midsummer,
his gaze steady and lifted
as any creator
to the beautiful,
mortal world
he can still take
into his heart
without misgiving.

Comments

  1. RudeeMay 23, 2010 at 4:30 PM

    Yes, you're right...it was a fun ride, but if you're mourning that it's over, don't. They never stop needing their Mama bear.

    I loved the poetry and the photo.

    ReplyDelete
  2. YogaforCynicsMay 23, 2010 at 9:09 PM

    I tend to feel sad about that kinda stuff sometimes, too (though I don't even have kids...but I'm still only in my early-mid-forties so ya never know what could happen), but then I think "were encyclopedias and old magazines ever really all that great?" I mean, there's a whole bunch of that stuff right where I am, but I'm messing around, as usual, with this high tech ravenous time waster...

    ReplyDelete
  3. The PliersMay 23, 2010 at 11:28 PM

    I love your new banner photo!

    Moving to France should have guaranteed that I toss more than I did but I actually wanted the feeling of being an alien to inform my choices for divesting myself of certain items.

    Stuff...

    ReplyDelete
  4. UnknownMay 24, 2010 at 5:27 AM

    What I may lack in denial I more than make up for in immaturity.

    Ah! isn't it wonderful to never grow up?
    smiles.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Batteson.IndMay 27, 2010 at 4:17 AM

    oh man!.. this almost made me cry.. I currently have all those books and a kid who just turned ten (already!!), I miss having to buy beautiful picture story books, but thankfully she LOVES books.. I hate moving them on and can't help but keep the ones I know she reads again and again..
    oh, and I'm loving lots your new header! fab!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Deanna Bland Hiott PhD, MSN, RNMay 29, 2010 at 6:32 PM

    By all means take them all to the lake! Also, someday there may be grandchildren... :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)

Popular posts from this blog

A Year with EB White

-
Image
"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."----- from Charlotte's Web I am a soul always drawn and fascinated by the idea of " A Year of...". A Year of Rumi. A Year of Calvin and Hobbes. A year cooking with Julia Child. A project that provides guidance for the year and a ruler we can measure inward growth in the course of our circle around the sun. One year, after an early marriage and an unsurprising--except to me--early divorce, I came across a book by Sue Hubbell titled A Country Year. I didn't plan for it to take a year to read, but it did. I only read it at night before I went t
Read more

The Poet Goes to Indiana by Mary Oliver

-
Image
I'll tell you a half-dozen things that happened to me in Indiana when I went that far west to teach. You tell me if it was worth it. I lived in the country with my dog— part of the bargain of coming. And there was a pond with fish from, I think, China. I felt them sometimes against my feet. Also, they crept out of the pond, along its edges, to eat the grass. I'm not lying. And I saw coyotes, two of them, at dawn, running over the seemingly unenclosed fields. And once a deer, but a buck, thick-necked, leaped into the road just-oh, I mean just, in front of my car— and we both made it home safe. And once the blacksmith came to care for the four horses, or the three horses that belonged to the owner of the house, and I bargained with him, if I could catch the fourth, he, too, would have hooves trimmed for the Indiana winter, and apples did it, and a rope over the neck did it, so I won something wonderful; and there was, one morning, an owl flying, oh pale angel, into the hay loft o
Read more

Goldfinches by Mary Oliver

-
Image
Some goldfinches were having a melodious argument at the edge of a puddle. The birds wanted to bathe, or perhaps just to dip their heads and look at themselves, and they were having trouble with who should be first, and so on. So they discussed it while I stood in the distance, listening. Perhaps in Tibet, in the old holy places, they also have such fragile bells. Or are these birds really just that, bells come to us--come to this road in America--let us bow our heads and remember now how we used to do it, say a prayer. Meanwhile the birds bathe and splash and have a good time. Then they fly off, their dark wings opening from their bright, yellow bodies; their tiny feet, all washed, clasping the air.
Read more