Things to Write About

I want to write about the turtles.  Griffin and I were out on our afternoon walk yesterday,  stooped by the side of the pond.  When I picked my head up, there they were.  Three turtles sunning on some rocks across the pond from us. We walked closer, spooked two of them into the water, but watched the one old geezer for a while.  We sat quiet and still, hoping that the other two might come back.  Eventually we got up, brushed the damp grass from our legs, and marched back to the car.  That last turtle hardly moved to notice us. I want to write about this, to think about it and remember it.

I want to write about Renee getting her ears pierced. She knows it, too, and keeps asking, “Mama, did you write about me yet?” Oh, girl. I want to write about her bravery, her courage, her choice.  It’s been probably nine months in the works, this idea of pierced ears.  She’s been scared, aware of the hurt, the logistics of this thing.  She researched, asking friend after friend about their experiences.  And then she decided she was ready.  That morning, she cried at the pierce.  Then it was over.  It’s already taken the form of a story, much like the stories Renee’s friends shared with her, like the stories the women in the piercing shop told.  I want to write about the bigger picture, about choosing hard things, about Renee being fearfully fearless.

I want to write about Kindergarten Kickoff.  Griffin, the youngest of my gang, is getting ready for school kindergarten.  The school does a nice job of transitioning the little ones, giving them lots of opportunities to see the school, meet the teachers, see the classrooms.  But it’s still just a waiting game of time, and he has just three short weeks left of preschool.  It’s been a heart tug as each of my kids has made this slow climb, but it’s especially emotional with him, my last.  I want to write about this very mixed time, this holding tight and then feeling suffocated; this letting go and feeling unmoored.

I want to write about spring break, about those magic moments when all three kids are gelling.  I want to write about the privilege I have to bear witness to this.  I want to write about hosting an Easter celebration, about gathering family in my space. I want to write about the slack line, about balance. I want to write, again, about following the kids into the freedom of fun.  I want to write about the chainsaw, about yard work, about investing in our house, our home, our family.

I want to write about the weird weather, the indecisiveness of this season.  Sunny and hot, then chilly and damp, and back again.  Dressing in layers, ready to peel each off in response to whatever the day may bring. I want to remember how the forsythia started to bloom early this year, then took a beating when we got a dumping of snow.  They continue to stretch forth, bigger and thicker every year despite, but the yellow bloomed less fully this year.  I’m drawn to the sunshine, outside almost always, and so very susceptible to the darkening mood that comes with the clouds, the rain. I want to remember this discomfort – the ambivalence even in this landscape around me.

These are mostly just notes to me. I want to write about all of this, to come back to each of these things that strike something in my heart.  Big swooping life changing things, and tiny small heart-pauses.  And I will, I’ll come back around to these things, mine them for deeper, more polished treasures.  But here’s where I’m leaving my little scribbles for now.

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