Turning

"What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you're eleven 
you're also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven but you don't. You open your eyes and everything is just as it was yesterday, only its today.  And you don't feel eleven 
at all. You feel like you're still ten. And you are -  underneath the year that makes you eleven. 

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that's the part of you that's still ten. Or maybe 
some days you need to sit on your mama's lap because you're scared, and that's the part of you that's
five.  And maybe one day when you're all grown up you'll need to cry like you're three and that's okay.
That's what I tell mama when she's sad and needs to cry. Maybe she's feeling three. 

Because the way you grow old is kinda like an onion or the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That's how being eleven years old is.

You don't feel eleven.  Not right away.  It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes even months before you say Eleven when they ask you.  And you don't feel smart eleven, not until you're almost 12. That's the way it is." 


-Sandra Cisneros

E and Me

E has been a particular blessing lately. I don't get to spend as much time with him, which may have something to do with me finding humor and glee in everything he does. He has those big brown eyes, you know, the ones that are filled with curiousity and kindness. I'll be young forever, according to him.

One of these days I'm going to have to say goodbye to him; I've thought about it before but haven't had someone else drop the bomb on me. He's also the only one right now who seems completely peaceful and utterly stress-free. It's a complete turn-around from last year, and while everyone else is rocking my boat I'm just estatic about him.

Meantime

Well, hello there. All kinds of happenings have been happening. And when a lot of things are happening I'm not so good at keeping track of it all, mostly due to my emotions leaking out and I'm trying to wipe them up.  I get frazzled trying to keep up with things because, well, I have to keep up and sort out.

This past weekend I went to one of my little spots of solice and dropped in on Steph and Michael.  Their lives are so much crazier than mine that its not even comparable. Yet we still manage to lay around and eat and walk and watch movies and talk about everything we've ever talked about.  Most of the time, even with her third bun in the oven, its no different than ever been. Except for the fact that she has those two kids and isn't in St. Louis anymore.  The latter is a bit of a bummer but I do have a nice excuse to get away for awhile.
Everyone is back home and its strange. Because we're all adults and adults are different now that they've been through things. So some discoveries are taking place. And more excuses to get away are warranted.
One of those getaways, and I'm sure more to come, are just Pop and I and a round or three of drinks. All kinds of things come out when that stuff goes in. Just as Wickersham said "In wine there is truth", well, there is in beer too. Mostly, we bring up the things we love, and that really is lovely.

Rollercoaster

That's what it is when you start something new, right? Maybe not a new start, but a new year. Or at least a new school year. That counts for something, and I'm banking heavily on this being a new ride - however long it lasts. 



photo from modern hepburn

Rubble

It's taking me forever to force myself to write this. I've been avoiding it for the past week, and frankly kind of wish to continue doing so. Its coming out in bits and pieces; slices really. I filled an entire notebook in the month that I was there, but to come out with any of it to others has been somewhat painful.  Maybe it feels most like a pang or an ache, and it should because it reminds me of what is there.  The more I've been opening up the more the ache intensifies, yet it feels likes its getting some salve. Its a strange occurence. Heartbreaking and heart-soaring at the same time. And there are some things I still want to keep for myself and some things that will always hurt, but I also want to tell almost everyone. When I started talking about it the other day, someone said to me that my whole face lit up. That's a good thing to hear; for the first week I just didn't know what to do with myself and I'm still in that state a little bit.  I felt like there was more for me there than here.

My first day in Africa I heard, "You'll be back. This place gets in your blood." and is exactly how it feels. Like it just surged in and has been pulsating ever since.

I do know that I'll be back. I just don't see how I couldn't.  I'm searching for a way and a when, but something will bring me back. 

Up Up Up

Oh, summer! How I love and loathe thee simultaneously. For your endless days, and time to travel, and cold drinks, and....heat.  Why can't there be a summer where it never breaks 70 degrees or so? At this point I should be thankful in which way it comes I suppose. I'm cleaning up and freshing up and catching up; all those things you need time for and summer brings time.
And Africa is just around the corner. 

Lightbulbs

E often thinks of things I wish I would have thought of.  His mind is a little wheel, and so much seems to be going on in there I wonder what we would discover if he could actually get it all out. But last week he exteneded a peace treaty that squeezed my heart into slush.  In a perfectly folded piece of paper he explained to R the sadness experienced when he doesn't follow directions. Nonetheless, E reckoned, they could still be best friends.
How much more appropriate is that then a shout of, "Dude, just get your shit together!"? 

Its genius really. I've been wondering ever since if that is what I should have done all along...it seems too simple. Or maybe just too humble.  The thing about humility, is that you often must aknowledge someone else's position and swallow a spoonful of pride. I'd rather swallow their pride. Unfortunately, R saw little opportunity in E's proposal and so we moved on.  That's the other risk - putting yourself on the line and being rejected or passed right by.
But the year has finally finished after a painfully slow passing. JB and I went out with a bang too, rather than taking one. Not that it made the whole year worth it but it was most the fun I've had in weeks.  I took a lot out of this year; I left a lot behind to because that's where it needed to stay. It will be there still if I get back. IF?