This morning, I noticed it was December.
December first. And I felt this little thrill. Thrill from the past as a
child.
Thrill from being a big sister and helping my siblings gather greens in the Pine forest and make things for each other and tender all their excitement.
Thrill from working with kids whose lives held so little hope or laughter, and teasing them and helping them make cool things to bring home and brighten their determination and my belief in them.
Thrill from becoming a parent, and doing all those wonderful projects with my kids.
Thrill from the planning and the making and watching them delight in their creations. The cutting and pasting and endless creative books with the endless wonderful ideas that my kids and their posse of friends endlessly ate up. It was all so delicious.
And yeah, nutso , and tantrums and complexity and tragedies all woven through like the rich tapestry it has been. A living growing morphing tapestry of lives.
So I stood there in the morning light.
Stood there in the reality of what life is like today.
And instead of yearning or planning or wanting or hoping or being disappointed or angry or bitter,
it was with great pleasure that I felt how I could stand here in this day, and let the thrill of December come on by.
Thrill from being a big sister and helping my siblings gather greens in the Pine forest and make things for each other and tender all their excitement.
Thrill from working with kids whose lives held so little hope or laughter, and teasing them and helping them make cool things to bring home and brighten their determination and my belief in them.
Thrill from becoming a parent, and doing all those wonderful projects with my kids.
Thrill from the planning and the making and watching them delight in their creations. The cutting and pasting and endless creative books with the endless wonderful ideas that my kids and their posse of friends endlessly ate up. It was all so delicious.
And yeah, nutso , and tantrums and complexity and tragedies all woven through like the rich tapestry it has been. A living growing morphing tapestry of lives.
So I stood there in the morning light.
Stood there in the reality of what life is like today.
And instead of yearning or planning or wanting or hoping or being disappointed or angry or bitter,
it was with great pleasure that I felt how I could stand here in this day, and let the thrill of December come on by.
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