Sunday, 16 July 2017

Finding Islands in Plain Sight

rollingshortsweb

My home town is bisected by a river and in the very centre of town, the river splits into three to make two islands.  On the first island is most of the down town shops, the town hall, the band stand and part our gem, Stewart Park.  The other island has the rest of Stewart Park, a play ground and three very expensive houses.

The part of the river that splits the park is everyone's favourite.  In mid-July when our town hosts its music festival in the park, anyone brave enough to ignore the high bacterial count warnings (thanks to the farms up river) splashes and floats down the river to cool off while listening to the folksy rhythms.  In the middle of this section there is another island, a small island, that is a granite outcropping about the size and girth of a transport trailer with one brave willow and few bushes struggling, straggling, to make a living.

For years there has been a dam that has been failing, making the river too high and too swift to cross to get to the granite outcropping.  Last year, the dam was replaced by a natural rock gateway, and the river has been quieted.  So it came to be that my son, whose lived here his whole life, and his cousin, who has been here three days, had a new island to conquer together.  

The park was filled with hundreds of people with lawn chairs or blankets, and a few with dancing shoes and hippy moves.  Breastfeeding mothers,  carefree retirees, picnicking families, city folk and locals, all crammed into our little park.  So of course, these two quiet gentle boys saw space and adventure on that island.  I saw friendship.

One was afraid of wasps near the shore and the other coaxed him past.  They hugged each other for balance as they navigated the slippery rocks and little current.  The other slipped and got his shorts wet and they laughed and said "That's okay!" forgetting about their mothers a whole universe away.

And so they arrived on their island, and they tried to catch a frog, and they stole an old mussel shell from the river, and giggled about things I couldn't hear.  They conquered their island, found joy in the day.  And that is how two boys, almost strangers three days earlier, become fast friends.

rivercrossingweb

Monday, 3 July 2017

Birthday mornings

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The first hour of my day is usually the best part of my day, which is to say that I am an introvert and set my alarm at least an hour before anyone else in my house gets up so that I can be completely alone and selfish.

On my birthday, I did something a little different: I set my alarm a little later, though still early enough that I didn't have to talk to anyone, and went to a yoga class.  Not only was my favourite yoga teacher subbing (don't take that statement too seriously - I've only been to half a dozen yoga classes in the last year), but no one else showed up.  It was just me.  The world was working in my favour.

I started my day with a tiny bit a sweat and bliss: my favourite.  And then I had to go home and merge with reality.  Did anyone make dinner for me?  No.  What about a cake?  Nope.  Breakfast?  No.  Who had to put sunscreen on the screaming toddler?  Me.  But that's all part of the life I've chosen.  Even on your birthday, its still just a day.

And do you know what's on the flip side of the proverbial coin of motherhood?  Coming home from yoga to find water waiting for me in a wine glass, because Nevin knows I like drinking from that special glass.  Handmade birthday cards.  "Happy birthday, Mama!"'s expressed with glee.  Nostalgia from the six-year-old.  When the greetings were done and the water drank, Scarlett looked to imaginary stage left and said, wistfully, "Oh, where do the years go?"

Honestly, I don't really know where the years go or how I ended up in my mid-thirties with all the bells, whistles and kids.  A series of decisions lead me here, but it is the decisions I make first thing in the morning that keep me moving forward with intention.


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