Two months gone and so much learned. William James made famous the concept of “stream of consciousness” saying that thoughts are like a stream—you step into them once and draw your toe out and when it dips in again it’s somewhere entirely different—the waters themselves are different. And that’s where I find myself now. Two months gone and so many thoughts: so many ideas gone, so many MEs. It makes me wonder what it is that keeps me constant. “I am as constant as the northern star, and I said, constantly in the darkness, where’s that at? If you want me I’ll be at the bar…”
I am considering the past. And I miss it intensely. And I feel blessed in this. What an enormous blessing to miss the past—to have a past worth missing. It doesn’t mean, certainly, that the present isn’t wonderful, but only that you have lived the past well. That it was memorable.
Well, perhaps you must, like me, have pasts in your life that are not wonderful to conjure in order to feel such a blessing in thinking of certain pasts that make your mouth water with longing.
In any event, it is nice to be back here at the keyboard, typing out the things that I love and miss and long for. To remember the people and things that have been so wonderful to me.
Today Henry played dress up. For the first time since his third birthday (which was on Sunday), he dressed up as something other than Spiderman. He was, today, a pirate. He wore his pirate captain Halloween costume and his new eye-patch. He carried his new plastic compass, telescope, and dagger. “Don’t fly me, I’m not Peter Pan, I’m Captain Hook!” he exclaimed as we read the JM Barrie classic and discussed treasures. He carried a plastic spoon and buried his Spiderman figurine (“right here in the floor—like we’re pretending it’s dirt”) who he said was his treasure after we had talked about what “treasure” means and what it could represent. “For instance,” I said, “you are my treasure. It’s what we love most.”
Henry’s third birthday. At the party, many, many people (all of them parents) congratulated me on Henry’s third birthday, reminding me that it was my anniversary of being a mom. True. It was. And it was a marvelous day. A day of looking back at how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve changed. I had a moment, looking in the fridge, wondrously filled with fresh food and fruit and leftovers. I remembered so clearly a time when my fridge held nothing but beer and condiments. What a healthy change. But mainly—where would I be? I love and treasure Gordon so intensely. Not a day goes by that I am not grateful and cognizant of the gift he is to me. But the boys—Oh My God the boys! My heart doubles and trebles with love for my boys! My grown boy and my “big” boy and my baby boy! Blessings rain down on me! I am saturated! I sit back amazed at the way love grows and grows, exponentially. Soul Kudzu. I am so in love and so blessed. My treasures are innumerable. My cup over flows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23)
It’s been a week of remembering and lamenting. It’s been a week of triumphs and questioning. In fact, there have been two long months of this—and they have gone unrecorded. Forgive me. I hope it will not be so long again.
