Eliza and Ella. Friendship.
May it always be so fun, so funny, so forgiving, so gentle, and so full.
May they always share something special and sweet.
May they always be true.
May they always be connected.
May they understand and be patient with the ebbs and flows of relationships and closeness.
May they always love each other as much as they do today.
Eliza’s mom (me) and Ella’s mom (Mich) have been friends for 20+ years; I’m so very very glad, and lucky beyond all reason.
My friendship, trust, and attention are more guarded than it may seem; being friendly and “midwesternly sweet” might look like friendship, but there’s so much more, so many more layers. When I give my love, really give my love, it’s with a lifetime lease. I’m not always an easy friend, I’m not always present, I’m not always together. I go off the grid. I keep a lot inside. I need extra hugs and hand-holding. People don’t always “get me”, and my charm wears off fairly quickly. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but I hold true friends as close to my heart as family. I really let them in.
I’ve often been hurt, but I’ve more often been blessed. That means I’ve got some strong and amazing and wonderful friends, and I hold them with fierceness and love. Always. I didn’t know that this many years into life I’d still be going over friendship and relationships and the dynamics between people, but I’m still amazed by the process, the ways we fall together and fall apart. More than ever, I’m still honored and tickled and put at ease by true friendship, and holding on with both hands.
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Our Emma is home today with a persistent barking cough. She’s generally pretty hearty, and sick-days are fortunately rare, but listening to the croup, and seeing the exhaustion in her eyes – even when I’m confident it will pass quickly – hurts my heart.
Motherhood is like this. So many little bruises on my own soul, as I try to weather the bumps for her; training myself not to wince, putting on my best hey, let’s not worry face. It’s not just on the sick days, of course. Navigating friendships, commitments, insecurities, growing pains…Knowing just how and when to squeeze her hand in public, that quiet code between us that says I’m right here; you’re doing great… It’s all an evolutionary part of our relationship, the way we lean together and then stretch just out of reach, giving each other wings to fly higher and deeper into our mother/daughter/woman/friend roles.
It’s all a work in progress.
To be a mother is to love more fiercely, more fully than you ever imagined. To be a mother is to have your heart ache often, sometimes just from sheer and profound joy. To be a mother, for me, is to grow and learn and try and fail and succeed and dream and make it all up as you go along. To be a mother to this girl is to breathe deeper and smile with softness and fill with admiration as she grows.
It’s not easy. Some days it’s insanely challenging (stress here on the word insane), and some days I’m really pretty bad at the job. Still, it’s wonderful, and I treasure these days.
Feel better, my big girl.
You are loved.
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We hit the ground running [and spinning, and jumping, and dancing].
My timing has been off (missed connections, diverted routes, topsy-turvy), and I’m teetering even more than usual between joyfulness, overwhelm, confidence, and fragility. This week is the last one in the transition time into the new schedule and regimen; I’m looking forward to settling into something steady, while still stretching into new territory.
I’ve also been missing people, wanting to catch up.
Missing time, wanting to catch up.
Missing myself, wanting to catch up.
I’ve been writing some new things.
I’ve been singing some new things.
I’ve been planning some new things, and I’m almost ready to share.
Autumn is my favorite, and I can see it ahead… time to put some things in storage, reflect on what’s left, and find the best of what’s around.
Be back shortly.
Love you, friends. xo
Summer 2014: Cotton Candy bigger than your head, “poodle socks” and Irish Dance medals, and enough mini-road trips to make us preferred members at the local car rental.
[There's also stuff going on, stuff in the world that is hurting my heart and igniting my activist spirit, stuff with my teeth that's requiring a root canal, and stuff on the stage involving Mozart and glorious music... but mostly, we're trying to focus on these lazy last days of August.]
Be back shortly; we’re still summering.
One more night in Evansville, and we’re getting melancholy about leaving the homestead. It wasn’t just the glorious evenings on the screened-in porch, it wasn’t just the hours at the piano, it wasn’t just the tractor rides [where "tractor" = "riding lawnmower"] with PawPaw, it wasn’t just the gardens and the woods and the pool and the toy nook upstairs… it was everything (and more) combined to give us a peaceful easy summertime visit.
We’ll miss you guys.
…but not yet. We’re still sitting here, enjoying the scenery and the laughing children. Good stuff.
Sorry, it’s been hard to keep up. The weekend was a blur of driving, resting, driving, dancing, driving, visiting, visiting, driving. Emma conquered (for now) her hardest dance challenge so far, placing first in Slip Jig at the Columbus Feis. We’ve had concentrated (with laughter, activity, and eats) cousin and auntie and grandparent time. Now we find ourselves at this glorious point in our trip where we’re exhausted enough that we need to slow down and savor. Happily so.
Em and I have been taking some time at dusk to read on the porch until the light dims down and the cricket-y tree flies drown out our thoughts. She’s still a far from insatiable reader (whereas I’m usually reading three at once, trying to pack in just a few more pages), but she’s diving in a little more deeply, and I’m trying to help her find an easy rhythm and routine.
It’s a magical world out there.
Hope you’re enjoying it, too.
The first afternoon was spent, as always, barefoot on the front porch swing with JoJo and PawPaw. It’s a happy gigglefest as we settle into the long languid hours of games, green, and grandparents; summer vacation, Southern Indiana + Sonnystone Acres style.
Wish you were here.
Long Beach, NY. July 2014
Their smiles are always so huge at the beach.
The first time I saw the ocean, I was about the age Emma is now; it was like the world opened up and told me a secret. Since then, it’s been my joyful thoughtful place, a reconnecting spot for my soul.
When we are lucky enough to sneak away for a beach day (this one’s just an hour by train), I’m so content and comforted to share it with the family. Their smiles. Their giggles. They could run in and out of the waves for hours upon hours.
These days feel decadent and easy and simple and happy.
This morning, I’m frustrated at the national news. It’s a simmering frustration that wants to boil over into anger, into hopelessness (my daughters will grow up in a country without sensible gun laws, without women’s rights, without fair voting laws, where Corporations are People, laws and politics are decided based on religious interpretation, and we engage in pointless, expensive, and endless war? No. Let us not speak of politics; it’s too difficult to even have a discussion in this “you’re either for us or against us” age that encourages divisiveness and ignores the possibility of intelligent debate)…
I need to step away, and into the simple, into the things we share. Quiet afternoons at the library. Running through sprinklers at the park. Long naps with the sun streaming through the blinds. Fresh watermelon. Witty messages from clever friends.
Today, we’re stripping down (some of us more literally than others; Eliza is an around-the-house nudist) and stepping away from the fear, the frustrations, the divide. Today, we’re living in the microcosm, and hoping for brighter days ahead.
Never forget, friends: I love you even when we disagree.
I support you even when our choices are opposites.
I value you even when I don’t understand you.
Let’s bring back civility and thought, shall we?
Dear friends, are you doing anything fun this weekend?
It’s still a five-mass singing weekend for me, but the weather is supposed to be bright and hot, so I’m hoping for happy relaxation and a walk through the park in the in-between times.
Missing you much, and wishing you perfect summer days and nights; I hope your adventures are lovely.